


A Shout in the Dark

by aradian_nights



Series: How the Other Half Lives [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Luke and Leia Switched, Dubious Consent, Empire Strikes Back, Gen, Luke Organa, Skywalker Family Drama, leia skywalker - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2018-12-10 20:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 87,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11699232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aradian_nights/pseuds/aradian_nights
Summary: After the narrow escape from Echo Base, Leia Skywalker searches for Yoda to finish her Jedi training while Luke Organa struggles with a secret he has kept for far too long.





	1. come in from the cold

**Author's Note:**

> hello, and welcome back to this ridiculous little saga. this one is gonna be fun.
> 
> so i've had the script up for empire, like i did with a new hope, but i'm following it way less stringently. like, i'm basically keeping it up for the sake of structure because so much has changed. you'll find some familiar scenes, though, obviously.
> 
> as for an update schedule, i'll go with weekly for now. might end up switching to fridays, might not. we'll see. (note, i thought today was friday when i started editing this and was basically like, ah. screw it.)

Leaving Tatooine and experiencing new planets had felt like such an incredible opportunity. The first time she had felt rain, she'd forced Han and Luke to splash around in puddles with her until they were all drenched and numb, laughing and clinging to one another as though nothing in the world quite mattered in that moment.

Leia had grown to love so much of the galaxy. The trees and the birds and the oceans. The shivering rain storms and terrifying earth tremors. Everything new ignited a primal urge inside her to rush out into the great unknown and experience it all with naked delight.

However, that delight did not extend to snow.

Leia Skywalker  _hated_  snow.

It was the opposite of sand, and yet it was the same. It clung to her whole body, and it burned her when she touched it with an exposed hand. Hoth was inhospitably cold, but it was just as much as desert planet as Tatooine, and she was sick of it!

Hoarfrost clung to the wool of the scarf over her nose, and beads of snow were stuck to the fringes of the fur lining her hood. Her tauntaun trotted heavily beneath her, and her teeth chattered beneath her numb lips.

This patrol had been as boring and uncomfortable as the last. Every time she entered Echo Base after spending a prolonged period of time unprotected, she felt like a dead girl. It took about an hour for her to fully recuperate from the elements, and even then she found herself lacking a bit in the conversation department.

She was feeling homesick lately. Not for Tatooine specifically, but for her Aunt and Uncle. They were still uncomfortable with her role in the Rebellion, especially after finding out what had happened to Biggs. Her last visit to Naboo stuck in her head, and she kept playing it over and over.

Varykino was possibly the most beautiful place she had ever seen, and Luke had laughed and told her to wait until the winter. But she didn't think she'd ever truly be able to stand winter again after Hoth. Sometimes she would envision the great expanse of lakes, the roar of a four hundred foot waterfall, and the hazy aroma of dozens of unknown flowers swaying uncertainly in the wind.

Both Owen and Beru lived at Varykino, in the Naberrie's home there, as a handyman and gardener respectively. Leia's bunk here on Hoth was riddled with little knick-knacks and baubles her uncle had fashioned for her, and dried flowers hung above her as she slept.

Her uncle had sat beside her at the dining table in the Naberrie estate, sunlight trickling against his weathered face. The fine linen of his Nubian clothes was loose on him, and she had realized how good this planet was for him. He did not look so worn and tired. In fact, he looked happy.

"Leia," he had said, taking her hands in his and looking into her eyes desperately. "Stay. Please."

Beru had whirled around at this, dropping the vine of Creeping Arunas she had been clipping. " _Owen_!" she had hissed, pointing her clippers at him warningly. "We talked about this."

Leia had merely frowned, her brow furrowing a bit as she slumped in her seat. Luke had gone off to speak with Sola, who he seemed abnormally close to, and Han had not come with them this time, and was instead out on a job.

"Talk about what?" she had asked cautiously, blinking between her aunt and uncle curiously. "Me? Leaving the Rebellion?"

She could recall how the mid-afternoon sunlight dripped into the room like honey from the yawning, wide open terrace. Owen sighed deeply, and he'd drawn a hand over his forehead and rubbed it meekly. He bowed his head, and he murmured, "Leia…"

"You understand that will never happen, right?" she asked him. She had leaned forward and tilted her head so she could peer into his face. "Uncle Owen, they need me."

"Well maybe  _we_  need you, Leia," Owen had gasped, lifting his head and shooting her a tired, hopeless look.

She had sat and gaped up at him. Even now she heard his voice, and she couldn't quite believe it. Hadn't she done enough? She could not imagine a world where she gave up on the Rebellion. Everything in her was wired to keep on fighting the good fight, to restore democracy to the galaxy and to create a new Jedi Order.  _That_  was her purpose in life.

And she could not do that on Naboo.

"No," she had said softly, pushing out her chair and looking down at her uncle sadly. "You don't."

And then she had left. Gone and found Luke, asked when they were leaving, and the rest was history. Beru had given her the flowers before she'd left, hugged her, and whispered to her that her uncle just missed her, that's all. They were scared for her.

They didn't want her to end up like Ezra Bridger.

Even in the brief hours that they had known him, the boy had left an impression.

Now that she thought about it, she had not heard Luke say anything about Ezra in a while. When it had happened, he had been on a solo mission. He had not immediately come back to Base, and Han and Leia later found out he had gone to find  _The Ghost_. Maybe they had all grieved together. She didn't know. She didn't know how to feel.

It had been three years since she had lost Ben. Nearly three years since they had lost Ahsoka. Two years since Ezra Bridger had been publicly executed. There had been so many losses in-between, so many close calls, so many moments where she had lost her breath and thought to herself,  _This is it. This is where it ends_.

But she was still here. Not even the icy hell of Hoth could stop her.

She reined her tauntaun in as it whined and shuddered in the face of a strong gale. Powdery snow came barreling at her like small shards of glass, imbedding itself in the fibers of her scarf and bouncing off the white, water resistant parka she kept bundled around her. She blinked through the shivering air, and squinted through the dark tinting in the lenses of her goggles. A thread of dark smoke was visible through the glitter of snow in the air.

Leia pushed back her goggles and tugged her scarf down, tucking it under her chin. The bite of the snow-encrusted fabric on her bare flesh made her shiver. She lifted her commlink up to her lips, exhaling a steady puff of white air.

"Han," she said, unable to bring herself to follow protocol when it was literally  _just_  Han. "Han, do you read?"

After a moment of waiting restlessly in the frigid air, the tip of her nose already chapping from exposure, Han's low drawl hissed from the comm.

" _Oh, hey there, sweetheart,_ " he said, all too enthusiastically. " _You got somethin' for me?_ "

Leia's eyes trailed toward the stream of smoke from where the meteorite had hit the snow. She imagined perhaps saying no, just to piss him off. But something inside her was suddenly on alert, and as much as she'd like to tease him, she felt it was smarter to be truthful.

"Well," she said, "I'm done with my patrol, and I haven't scanned any lifeforms, if that's what you mean. But, Han, something just fell from the sky."

There was not even a second's delay at his response.

" _What kind of something?_ " he asked, suspicion broiling inside his gruff tone. " _Hey, Leia, don't go poking at stuff. You know how shit is when you're being curious, you might blow up the whole base by accident._ "

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asked in a sharp, but very flat voice.

" _It means come back to base, stupid._ "

"Uh…" Leia rolled her eyes, and she pushed her goggles back down over her eyes. "Sorry, Han, I can't hear you! You're breaking up! I'm gonna go investigate."

" _Leia!_ "

Leia clicked the transmitter off, and she tucked it into her coat. The tauntaun below her whined softly as she hopped off it, patting it gently on the back.

"Hey," she said, stroking its head and smiling. "Calm down, you big baby. I'm just gonna check this out, and then we'll head back to base. Now, stay."

Her feet wobbled unsteadily against the ground, thick boots sinking into the snow. She pried her binoculars from her belt and adjusted them, making certain that the surrounding area was safe before she continued.

It was then, zooming in on the crash site, that she considered that maybe the thing that had fallen from the sky was not a meteorite. She was struck with a wave of déjà vu, her hands clamped around binoculars, roving the sky and the barren earth, and recognizing that something here was wrong. Dread took hold of her heart in fists like iron, and it squeezed and squeezed until she could not breath.

And then, with a shriek of her tauntaun, she was yanked back to reality. Her whole body was locked and poised in fear, and she made the split second decision to dive away as a massive, scraggly white arm came crashing down where her head was just a second before.

The snow snagged on her boots, making it difficult to skid back, but she managed to slide into a crouch, her fingers dragging against loose snow. She let out a shaky breath, and it unfurled from her lips in a bloom of mist. Before her was a huge, jerky beast— a wampa, like the one that had nearly eaten Chewie a few weeks earlier. She had not thought much of it then, but now she was glad she had seen it.

It roared at her, its yellow teeth crooked and bent inside its black gums. Then it snatched her tauntaun by the neck, and crushed the poor creature's skull with a sickening  _crunch_.

"No!" Leia screamed, lurching forward. She stumbled back as the wampa's long arm sailed toward, her whistling over her head and managing the hit the hood of her parka. The force of that alone sent her scrambling, her feet snagging against the slippery slow and losing traction. She slipped, catching herself with her hands, and rolling onto her side before the wampa's fists could smash into her skull.

While it was leaning low, its hands half-buried, she pushed herself half upright and toed at the snow, creating a pocket of loose crystals. Then she kicked the snow into the wampa's face, lurching to her feet as it howled, scratching at its eyes as the ice momentarily blinded it.

Leia swiped her lightsaber from her belt and flicked her wrist as the blue blade extended from her fist, bathing her cheek with warmth as she held it close to her face and lowered herself into position. The moment the wampa rounded on her, she slid beneath its legs and swung, cutting it down by one leg, and sweeping aside as it toppled over with an agonized yowl. Snow exploded up from where it fell, its heavy body sinking into the fresh fall. Without waiting for it to regain its wits about it, Leia took a deep breath, and she leveled her lightsaber with its neck.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, swinging her saber down with both hands and separating the wampa's head from its shoulders.

Once it was done, she stumbled back and nearly tripped over her dead tauntaun. Bile burned the back of her throat, and when she took deep breaths, the cold air sliced through her lungs. She sunk to her knees, the wind picking up around her and beating her scarf against her cheek.

What was she going to do now? Her ride was dead, and it was nearly dark. Could someone pick her up that fast? No, there was no chance. Could she find a cave before the sun went down? That was risky, considering how cold it was, and she'd already been outside for over an hour. Exposure would get her before she made it to shelter.

She would have to try.

Extinguishing her lightsaber, Leia staggered forward, fumbling for her commlink and lifting it shakily to her lips.

"Echo Three to… to anyone…" she croaked, her eyes darting toward the steadily setting sun. She could feel the temperature dropping by every second she breathed. "I'm stuck. I'm going to try to head for shelter, but my tauntaun is dead, and I'm too far from base."

She kept walking, and when she heard the crisp hiss of another voice on her comm, she nearly cried.

" _Echo Three, this is Echo Base_ ," said a clear, stern voice. " _Stay where you are, and someone will pick you up._ "

"I can't stay where I am!" she gasped. "The sun's going down! I don't want to freeze to death, it's really not my style!"

She jumped when Han's disgruntled voice hissed through the comm. " _Did I not say this would happen? For once, do as your told and stay where you are! I'm gonna come get you."_

"Han, the sun's almost gone!" Leia kept heading forward, squinting through the winds that progressively got stronger and stronger. "Don't come. You hear me? Don't come!"

There was silence on the other line. Leia paused in her trek, breathing heavily, and blinking as the violent wind pushed her off balance. She gripped the commlink in her hand, and she realized she might have lost her signal.

"Han?" she gasped, smacking commlink desperately. She shook it against her thigh, and tried again. "Han!"

Nothing.

She was alone.

* * *

Luke burst into the hangar, skidding to a stop before the deck officer who had allowed the doors to be opened. Han was already climbing atop a tauntaun, bundled up tightly in a parka.

"What's happening?" he gasped, whirling to face the officer. "Why are you allowing Han to do this?"

"I'm not gonna argue with you, short stuff," Han snapped. "Leia's out there, and nobody will go out to get her."

"That is  _not_  what is happening," the deck officer said firmly.

Luke spared the man a glance, before he sighed deeply and shook his head. "Han," he said calmly, "I  _know_  Leia's out there. And I want to know why you are going to get her on a tauntaun, and not retrieving her on a ship."

"A ship could not sustain flight during the temperature drop," the deck officer said. "It is wired to assume deep space contact at temperatures as low as the ones outside, and it will not fly correctly. A tauntaun is the only mode of transportation currently available to us that can reach Skywalker, and even  _that_  is questionable."

Panic had not quite settled in until the officer had finished speaking. Now he was thinking, and he was thinking hard. Leia had already been outside the blast doors for over an hour. Being outside for thirty minutes was enough to make her exhausted. Luke had no idea what this would do to her.

"Let me come with you," Luke said, the extent of his sudden and debilitating panic falling into his voice. He stepped forward, and Han merely looked down at him with a frown.

"No," he said, not unkindly. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes were downcast. "Look, Your Worship, I know I'm not the easiest guy to trust, but please. You need to be here. The base  _needs_  your leadership, whereas me…" He cracked a wiseass grin, and he winked. It was easy to understand that he was implying that no one needed him here.

"Don't start," Luke sighed, whisking his hand through his hair. "Han, you're a great leader! People here look up to you."

"But they can lose me," he said, "if they have to. They  _can't_  lose you. And I  _can't_  lose Leia."

"Neither can I!" Luke found himself grabbing the reins of the tauntaun and looking up into Han's face desperately. "You know that! And— and what if I lose both of you? I can't let that happen, Han."

Han inhaled sharply. He examined Luke's face for a moment, before plucking Luke's fingers from the reins and dropping them.

"You're not gonna lose either of us," he said. He smiled softly down at Luke, the familiar fondness of his gaze calming down Luke's raging heartbeat. "Because I'm gonna save that brat."

"The tauntaun will freeze before you make the first mark!" gasped the desk officer, clearly desperate and truly only trying to help. Han's eyes snapped furiously to the man's face, his smile sliding away and transforming into a sneer.

"Then I'll see you in hell!" Han spat, yanking at the tauntaun's reins and jerking the poor creature forward.

Luke stumbled forward desperately as he watched Han disappear into the storm, snow blowing heavily into the base and wind kicking into his face the moment he got too close. It reminded him of the snows in Aldera during the dead of winter, when the peaks of mountains were like no man's land. He stopped at the edge of the blast doors, the cold knifing through him and causing him to shudder.

"Prince Luke," the officer said, eyes wide. "What do we do?"

Luke blinked into the blinding white sheet of incoming snow, a swelling miasma that had swallowed up Han's silhouette in an instant. He took a deep breath.

"Close the doors," he ordered. His mind was reeling.

He wheeled around and left the hangar, his heart in his throat and his eyes prickling.

Once outside, he passed a dark figure lounging against the wall. The figure clearly had just arrived from outside the base, because their parka was long and oversized. And blue. Luke paused and glanced back at them, watching as they leaned back and smirked at him.

"Aphra," Luke exhaled, relaxing a little as a wry grin lit up her round face.

"Sounds like someone's having a little trouble, eh, princeling?" Aphra pushed off the wall, her hands still in her pockets, and she half strutted up to him, her shoulders slouched and her eyes glittering. Her inky black hair was thrown into a messy bun, and long strands hung around her ears in wisps. It had been growing out for a while now, Luke realized.

"No more trouble than usual," he said, not ready to have this conversation with Aphra. Again. "Walk with me."

Aphra's status in the Rebellion was, to say the least, precarious. High Command had found out about her only six months previous, and Luke thought that was honestly incredible, considering he had recruited her around the time Ezra had been executed. First there was an issue when she had been the Rebellion's prisoner, and Luke had all but begged Aphra to stay with them.

"Vader will kill you," he'd said softly, standing between Aphra and Sana Starros's hot pistol. "You must know that. Aphra, you're a quick, resourceful,  _intelligent_  woman. Are you really going to throw your life away?"

It hadn't mattered much. Turned out Aphra was more scared of Vader than he had anticipated— and for good reason. Apparently he had thrown her out of an airlock.

The next time they had met had gone marginally better. There were some parasitic body snatching bugs around, and Leia had made up her mind immediately about Aphra's untrustworthiness, but Luke was determined.

He believed, whole-heartedly, that people could change.

If he didn't, then would he really be friends with Han?

Aphra was misguided. Luke saw that clearly, and he saw what the world had done to her. Maybe not the Empire, not specifically, but her disillusionment with life in general had hit him hard. And what could he say? He liked a project.

Anyway, their deal had started out small. He'd admitted he couldn't compensate her as well as the Empire outright, because she would be, first and foremost, his spy. That had intrigued her enough to keep her listening, and he knew he'd had her before he'd even explained the details of the arrangement.

"We're always treading on old worlds, worlds that have been settled but are now barren, worlds that have history rich and untapped by the modern age," he'd told her. "You can't know where we are when we're there, but I'll tell you when we clear out so you can explore. Maybe excavate what we didn't. I know what we did to the Massassi Temple, and I feel personally responsible for that. I want to create a New Republic, one that remembers the past, and can grow from it. We need people like you, Aphra, who look to uncover truths of histories we don't even know yet."

So that had worked out better than he had expected, and soon Aphra was actually getting somewhere in her career. Her side job as a spy came easily enough, though he had told her from the start not to sacrifice anything for his sake. He understood that she'd put her needs first anyway.

He had decided to start actually trusting her when she had rolled up to him in a speeder bike on Pantora, lifted up her goggles onto her suede cap, and shrugged off a backpack. She had thrown it to him, met Leia's eye momentarily, and then nodded.

"I'm sorry," she had said, resting her arms over the handles of her bike and leaning forward. "In my defense, though, I sold these  _before_  I started working for you."

Luke had eyed her uncertainly before opening up the bag. It was heavy in his arms, and it made sense why the moment he peered into it. Half a dozen lightsabers winked at him like stars.

Initially, Leia had been overwhelmingly angry, and Luke had played mediator. They had all calmed down upon finding out Aphra had found them at the site of an Ancient Jedi battlefield, and she had consequently sold them because that was her job. But she had reacquired them specifically for Luke and Leia.

"Look," Aphra had sighed, "I know I'm not trustworthy. I wouldn't trust me if I were you. But I  _like_  this gig. Spying is cool, and I get to do what I love anyway. Plus, you guys are way more fun than Darth Vader. I'm like,  _hardly_  scared I'm going to die around you. So here's the proof that I'm serious about this."

Leia had merely watched Aphra with narrowed eyes. If it were up to her, she'd sic Sana on Aphra in a heartbeat. Luckily Sana had not been there.

"You bought them back?" Leia asked suspiciously.

"Of course she didn't," Luke had scoffed, closing up the bag and handing it off to Leia. "She stole them."

"Technically," Aphra had said, lifting a finger, "I was providing some social justice by re-appropriating relics taken and distributed to non-Jedi, and returning them to their rightful place." She had made a noncommittal gesture to Leia, who had scowled.

"You shouldn't have taken them in the first place!" Leia had cried. "It makes my skin crawl when I think about non-Jedi using lightsabers."

"Um, the princeling uses a lightsaber," Aphra had pointed out.

Leia had rolled her eyes, and she rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Non-Force users, then," she corrected herself.

"Again," Aphra had said, straightening up and holding up her hands in surrender. "I get that? Which is why I brought these back to you."

"Apology accepted," Luke had said.

"Luke!" Leia had rounded on him angrily. "You're not a Jedi. You don't get to decide that!"

"She said she was sorry."

"She still stole the lightsabers!"

"From corpses about a millennia old," Luke had said calmly. "Not the victims of the Jedi Purges. They're rather different."

"No they're not! A Jedi is a Jedi."

"Actually," Aphra had piped up, "these guys weren't even proper Jedi. Not Orthodox at all. Totally a different sect, and they went extinct. So, anyway…"

Eventually Leia had relented. To this day she had issues with Aphra, though. Luke suspected that Leia had had a bit of a crush on Sana in those earlier days, perhaps to anger Han, perhaps just because Sana was very attractive and happened to be frighteningly competent.

Ever since High Command had found out about Aphra, Luke had just started letting her tag along with him sometimes. Their base was not a secret to her anymore, and it didn't matter much, because she was always doing something. The main problem was trust, and she'd already proven to Luke that she was prepared to risk a lot to keep this job. So she wasn't going to sell their location to the Empire, not before she could properly comb through it for any artifacts.

Not that Hoth had any. Right now they were trusting her on blind faith.

"Okay," Aphra said, holding up a datachip between her fingers. "So here's your info regarding the prisoner transfer to The Citadel. Did you know it was originally built to keep rogue Jedi from escaping?"

Luke took the chip gingerly and pocketed it. He was wearing white fatigues and a white vest, a vain attempt to try and blend in with the rest of the soldiers. He knew his flair for the dramatic would probably rear its ugly head eventually, but for now he would make do.

"Yes," Luke said. "I'm aware."

"Do you think there are any Jedi there now?" Aphra asked eagerly.

He paused mid-step to throw her a curious glance. She merely smiled sheepishly, and rubbed the back of her neck.

"My dad's a total nut about Jedi stuff," she confessed. "Finding out that there are some more out there would probably make him happy."

"I thought you hated your dad," Luke said, continuing to walk. His step was brisk.

"I do."

He shot her a short, disbelieving glance. She seemed slightly offended, her nose wrinkling up as she marched beside him.

"I  _do_ ," she insisted. "What? You don't believe me?"

"You just don't sound convincing."

"For real?" Aphra groaned. "Look, it's complicated, okay?"

"No," Luke said with a sigh, "no, I get it. I do. You don't have to explain."

"Okay." Aphra folded her arms across her chest. "Good. So, what was all the dramatics with Solo back there?"

"Nothing, really."

Aphra glanced up at him, her dark eyes gleaming cheekily as she smirked. Her dimples made her look very young, though Luke was sure she was about Han's age.

"A lover's quarrel?" she asked, looking eager to hear the woes of Luke's barren love life.

"I am not in love with Han," Luke said, shaking his head. "And for the last time, Aphra, I'm not in love with Leia, either."

"So Leia's still single?" Aphra's smirk turned into a wry grin. "I knew there was a good reason for me to show up. Where is she?"

It was hard to properly wrap his head around the situation. They had all nearly died enough that he felt a bit desensitized to the idea of death, but still, whenever Han and Leia were off on their own he was overcome with a prevalent dread. Everything in him was on edge, taut and strung up by the whim of his anxiety. He had to keep himself moving, or he might just burst into tears.

"Right now?" Luke wet his lips. The ice walls of their base looked glassy in the stale, artificial light. "Outside."

Aphra tilted her head. "Huh?"

"Leia's tauntaun died while she was out on her patrol." Luke paused to allow a lower ranking officer run up to him. He had to sign off on a frostbitten man's leave. He quickly took the pen and scrawled his name onto the holopad. "Han went to go get her."

"You know she's gonna die out there, right?" Aphra asked. Her words were harsh, but he could tell by the softness of her voice that she really did mean well.

He sighed and looked down at Aphra tiredly. "I am not prepared to make any assumptions right now," he said. "But I believe that the Force will protect Leia."

Aphra grimaced. "Yeah, it does like that girl," she admitted.

Luke toyed with the chip in his pocket. He considered Aphra for a moment, and then he held it up.

"Would you like to see what you went through all that trouble to procure for me?" he asked with a small smile. Her eyes lit up.

"Yes." She bounced on the balls of her feet. "Yes, yes. What wrench in the Imperial cog are you about to set loose?"

"I can only tell you if you come on the mission," Luke warned her. "You know how cautious I have to be about leaks."

"Yep." Aphra nodded. "I'm prepared. Plus, I can ask about the Citadel. You never know when I might have to break in there. I could be the first person to do it."

"No," Luke said. "Not the first."

He watched Aphra's eyes widen a bit, and she eyed him up and down for a few moments. "Okay," she said cautiously, "I'll bite. Whom the  _fuck_?"

Luke couldn't help but laugh. "It was Leia's father," he told her lightly. "Anakin Skywalker? His Padawan told us the story when she with us."

"Anakin Skywalker, huh?" Aphra chewed on the inside of her cheek, her arms folding over her chest. "Okay, that makes sense. This was the Clone Wars, then?"

"Yes." Luke led Aphra through a cavernous hall and into the barracks. Wedge and Hobbie watched them pass with identical frowns. "Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the clone Captain Rex infiltrated the prison. Can you guess who they rescued?"

Aphra squinted up at him, and she cocked her head. "I don't know," she said. "Darth Vader? Quit teasing me, Luke!"

Luke smiled grimly. She was closer than she realized. "Wilhuff Tarkin," he said. The name fell out of his mouth like poison.

"Oh, ew," Aphra said bluntly. "Why didn't they just let him rot? Wait, didn't Tarkin hate the Jedi?" Aphra groaned and rubbed her head. "Clone Wars politics is so confusing. I totally failed that class."

"We'll probably need to talk to Rex before we do any major planning on this mission," he admitted. "The goal is to attack the freighter that is transferring the prisoners, but the more we know about the Citadel, the better."

"Wait, the clone is still alive?" Aphra whistled low. "Impressive. And he's a rebel too?"

"Don't worry, Doc," Luke said cheerfully. "You'll have him trying to kill you in no time. You have a rep to maintain, right?"

"If that ain't the truth," Aphra said with a wide grin.

* * *

Sunlight sifted through dusty blinds. The air tasted stale, like dust caked the very molecules of the oxygen she breathed. The blanket laid out over her was scratchy and woolen, discolored in some places. Sun-bleached reds and browns were visible. Beneath the heavy, musty scent of baked clay and desert air, she could smell something earthy.

Tea leaves steeping in water.

Leia sat upright. Her body felt sluggish. Her fingers clutched at the blanket, and she looked down at them, puzzled. Why were they so small?

"Do you remember your first time here, little one?"

The voice was like a memory, or a dream, and it made her whole body go numb. She sat and stared at the cracked white adobe wall, her lips parting dazedly as her eyes slid toward the owner of the voice.

"Ben…" she breathed. Her limbs moved mechanically, shoving back the blanket and falling over the chair. Tears filled up her eyes as she scrambled to her feet and launched herself at him. "Ben!"

He caught her easily, swinging her up into his arms as though she weighed nothing, and she hung limply against his chest, her tears drying on the tough wool of his robe.

"There, there," Ben murmured, stroking the back of her head absently. "Don't fret. I have been by your side all along."

"No you haven't!" Leia cried, clinging to his robe. "You've been dead! Are you— are you still dead?" She found herself coming back to her senses, and she looked around his hovel in minor awe. "Am I dead?"

Ben set her back down, and she looked up at him in wonder. She realized he was much taller than she remembered. She looked down at herself, and she slumped.

"I'm a baby," she observed.

"Eleven," Ben corrected. "But, in this case, perhaps the word "baby" is more appropriate."

"Shut up!" Leia gripped his hand tightly and looked at him with big, imploring eyes. "What's going on? Am I dead or not?"

"Why would you think you're dead?" Ben asked curiously.

"Uh!" Leia took a deep breath, and forced herself to calm down. "Well, Ben, I don't know if you noticed, but you've been dead for three years."

"Ah, yes." Ben tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That did happen. However, you are not dead, Leia."

"That's…" Leia sighed, and she rubbed her forehead tiredly. "I guess that's good? Damn, I don't even know. Can we sit down? I feel a little sick."

Ben took her hand and guided her back to a chair. He sat down beside her and rubbed small circles into her back as she doubled over and held her head in her hands.

"I never meant to leave you like this, Leia," Ben murmured. He slumped a bit, and sighed. "I am very thankful for the time I had with you, and I do not a regret a thing. But dying like that, in front of you? That was never my intention."

"We could have escaped," Leia said bitterly.

"No, little one." Ben smoothed her hair back from her face, and he cupped her cheek. His callused palms felt familiar, and fresh tears burnt her eyes. "I was not meant to live through that battle. It was fated, from the start, I think. And I accepted that a long time ago. But do not be sad. For I am still with you, always. As I said I would be."

She dug her teeth into her lower lip as he brushed a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb. She could not even find it in her to argue that he was wrong, that he could have lived if he had wanted. Maybe he had not wanted to live. Shouldn't she just accept that?

"This is like it is with Qui-Gon," she said after minutes passed in silence. She lifted her fingers toward thin rays of sunlight filtering in through the slats in his blinds. It felt neither warm nor cold. "I am here, but I am not here."

Ben blinked down at her. "Master Qui-Gon visits you?" he asked curiously.

"Sometimes." Leia snuggled closer to him, her newly shrunk body fitting easily in the crook of his side. "The last time was a long time ago. Before Ahsoka got captured."

"Ah." Ben smiled. "Ahsoka. I suppose it would be cruel of me not to divulge that she is very much safe and unharmed."

Leia jerked away from him suddenly, staring up into his face with a gaping mouth. "What?" she croaked. "Wait, really? Ben, don't play with me. She's alive?"

"Yes," he said. He looked down at her amusedly. "Imprisoned, but alive."

"Where?" Leia demanded.

Ben touched her head gingerly. His watery blue eyes searched her face sadly.

"Nowhere you can go, little one," he said sadly.

"I am Leia Skywalker," she said, pulling his hand away from her head and squeezing it. "I do what I want. Where is she?"

"Ahsoka is safe, Leia," Ben said calmly. "That is not your concern. I have a mission for you."

"A mission more important than saving Ahsoka?" Leia scowled. "She was dad's Padawan, Ben! She basically became my teacher, you know, after you died. I owe her a lot!"

"Leia, you must trust me when I say that she is safer where she is now than you are." Ben looked down at her sternly. It was the look he gave her when her temper flared up, and he had no interest in catering to that beast.

"Safe?" Leia managed to puff out a breath of distress. " _Safe_? With Darth Vader? Ben, come on!"

"Leia." Ben was serious. He took both her hands in his, and he gripped them tight. "Look at me. Listen to me. Ahsoka is fine. It is you who is in danger."

"Danger?" she repeated. She felt like a broken holoprojector. "What do you mean?"

The walls began to crumble around them, and Ben's expression fell in horror and dismay. He pulled her close, and rested his cheek against her head.

"Dagobah," he whispered. "Find Master Yoda on Dagobah. You  _must_ , Leia. He will teach you what I could not."

"Wait…" Leia gripped him tightly, and she buried her face in his shoulder. "No. Don't go. Please, Ben, don't go…"

"Dagobah. Say it with me, Leia, so you don't forget."

"Dagobah," she murmured.

He pulled back, and he rested his forehead against hers. His fingers gripped the crook of her neck. Together, they both whispered, "Dagobah."

And then, like the floor had given out beneath her, Leia slipped from his fingers and fell hard and fast.

When she woke up, she was in a tent.

Her body was stiff and unyielding.

She could not open her mouth.

Everything was white. She was trembling, and her limbs were aching. There was a weight on her chest, and her fingers throbbed.

Suddenly a pair of warm hands were on her face, cupping her cheeks and dragging her head into a lap. "Leia? Leia! Look at me, Leia!"

She managed to spare a dull, tired glance in Han's direction. His face floated above hers, his dark hair swirling around his head in damp wisps. It stuck to his forehead. His lips were parted, and he looked like a fish.

A very handsome fish.

"Don't close your eyes," Han whispered urgently. "Don't look away. Keep your eyes on me."

When she tried to open her mouth to reply that she was sleepy, she found she could not. So she stared at him.

"I shoulda stuck you in the tauntaun," he said, sounding distant and frantic. "That way at least I would've known, you know? That you were warm. Shit, Leia, why'd you have to collapse like that?"

She blinked. Her eyes stuck closed. The back of her eyelids looked like Beggar's Canyon.

There was an earthquake, and she gasped as she was jolted awake by Han's hands. He held her very close, close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheeks.

"Don't," Han said, gripping her head with both hands and dipping his face low. "Don't do this, Leia. You know you're stronger than that."

The warmth of his breath against her numb cheek tingled her skin. She shuddered, and curled closer against Han.

"Dagobah…" she whispered.

"Huh?"

Her voice tore through her throat like sandpaper. Her lips bumped against each other uselessly while her teeth chattered.

"Dagobah…"

* * *

Luke's quarters were just as cold as the rest of the base, and unlike Leia's bunk, he had no personal affects to name. At least not visibly. He kept the holo of his birth mother safe in a box of trinkets stashed in his emergency bag. He also had multiple memory sticks filled with holos of Alderaan. He was planning on copying them before handing them over to Ryoo, so that she could archive them properly. She had told him, the last time they had visited Naboo, that she wanted to write a book on Alderaan. He hoped that it would be enough.

"I'm not saying board the freighter like pirates," Luke said, peering at the schematics of the ship. Aphra and Rex sat behind it, their faces mildly distorted by the blue light. "But honestly? Board them. This vessel is not well manned, and I can't expend the manpower necessary to infiltrate the Citadel. So it has to be done while in flight."

"I don't mind playing pirate," Aphra said. She smiled up at Rex in her mischievous way, and Rex merely stroked his white beard thoughtfully. He peered down at the schematics, and he shook his head.

"I have a bad feeling about this, sir," he said. "It could be a trap."

"A trap for who, exactly?" Luke tilted his head. "Sabine Wren is a Mandalorian rebel. The Empire is using her as a leash on the Wren clan like they did with her father five years ago. Mandalore is  _still_  burning. They have no resources to rescue a single Imperial hostage."

"You forget," Rex said heavily, "that she was a Spectre first."

It took a lot of effort not to flinch at that. Luke gripped his knees tightly, and he stared Rex in the eye. "That," he said, "I did not forget."

"A trap for Hera, then," Rex said.

"Hera has been flying under the radar since—" Luke inhaled sharply through his teeth. Aphra peered at him curiously, and he shook his head. "Look, the transfer is in three days. I am prepared to come with you to rescue Sabine. But it's happening. With or without you."

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it," Rex said defensively. "Just that I have a bad feeling about it. I love Sabine. And I have seen the Citadel. I will not let her rot in that place."

"Thank you, Rex," Luke sighed, feeling a bit relieved now that he knew for sure Rex was in.

After meeting Rex for the first time, when Kanan Jarrus had lost his sight and Ahsoka had lost her arm, they had not really spoken much. It wasn't until Ahsoka's return to the Rebellion that he got interested in him. More often than not, Luke would catch Rex staring at him. He always wore a puzzled look on his face, like he could not quite make out the features of Luke's face. Maybe he needed spectacles.

"So," Aphra said, leaning forward and grinning. "Shall we talk compensation?"

Rex glanced at her with barely concealed loathing. "Where did you pick this merc up, sir?" he asked, frowning. "A little scrawny to be Mando."

"I'm not Mandalorian, but that's very sweet of you!" Aphra smiled at him brightly. "I'm Doctor Aphra. Have we not been introduced? Well, I'm an archaeologist. Nice to meet ya!"

Rex took one long glance at her extended hand, and he turned back toward Luke. "Do you really trust her?" he asked bluntly.

"I trust her to get the job done." Luke turned and addressed Aphra. "Sabine is the daughter of a Countess, and personal friends with the current Duchess of Mandalore. So that's about four planets you can study freely. How does that sound?"

Aphra's dark eyes glittered, and they seemed to respond for her.

"Done," she said.

The door behind him slid open, and he clicked the holoprojector off. He slid the datachip across the floor to Rex before standing and turning.

Wedge Antilles was in the doorway, out of breath and wide eyed. "Luke," he gasped, gripping the doorframe. "It's Han and Leia. They're back."

Luke was out the door before he even finished speaking. The ice walls were narrow, and the ceilings were low. He had to tread carefully, lest he slip on some uncovered ice. He didn't realize Wedge, Aphra, and Rex were all trailing behind him until he reached the medbay.

"Chewie," Luke gasped as the door slid open. He stepped inside and looked around hastily. "Is Han okay? Is— Is Leia…?"

Chewie yowled, and he pointed. Han was sitting on a nearby table, shirtless and pink in the face with a blanket over his shoulders. He spotted Luke, and he shot him a goofy grin.

"Hey there, Your Worship," he drawled, leaning back to gaze at Luke haughtily. "Did I say I'd get her back, or what?"

The relief that washed over him was almost definitely palpable. He might have fallen to his knees and prayed, if he didn't have a reputation to maintain. His eyes swiveled toward the bacta tank in the corner, and he slumped a bit as he watched Leia float serenely in the gelatinous blue liquid. Her hair was loose and unfurled around her head, floating eerily like seaweed. She was mostly naked except for a thin white cloth over her breasts and genitals. Luke exhaled in relief.

"This base is the gift that keeps on giving," Aphra remarked with a lewd smirk as she cupped her chin and watched Leia float. Luke took Aphra by the shoulders and spun her around.

"Out," he commanded.

"What the hell is the whacko doctor doing here, anyway?" Han asked irritably. "Hey, lady! Fuck you!"

"Kriffin'…" Aphra twisted to fling her middle finger up at Han. "You're just sore because I happen to fuck girls better than you."

" _Huh_?" Han's pink face, which was merely flushed from adjusting to a warmer temperature, was suddenly bright red. "You little harpy. Now I  _know_  that ain't true."

"Oh, honey," Aphra said mildly. Her smile was bright and pitying.

"It  _ain't_."

Luke met Rex's eye over Aphra's head. He took Aphra's arm and began to drag her away.

"Okay, Aphra, time to go. Bye bye, now." Luke shoved her as Rex pulled until she was out of the medbay. Wedge just stood there, his mouth open, and he looked very lost.

"What did she mean?" Han huffed. "She can't have been serious."

Luke closed his eyes, and he sighed very deeply. After a night of pure anxiety and zero sleep, he was not exactly pleased nor surprised that he was spending the morning stroking Han's ego.

"I think she was plenty serious," Wedge piped up.

"But it's definitely not true."

Luke turned to face Han, and he folded his arms across his chest. Han stared at him, and then he scowled.

"It's  _not_."

"Tell me what happened," Luke said. "Start from the beginning. Where did you find her? How long was she outside before you got her to shelter? You did bring a tent, didn't you?"

All the sheepishness and mirth vanished from Han's face. He became uncharacteristically somber, his brow furrowed as he leaned forward and rubbed his fingers together to get the circulation running back into his hands.

"I found where she was when she sent her last transmission," he said slowly. "She wasn't there. Her tracks were fresh, but the snow was so heavy that they had nearly disappeared. I ended up finding her maybe forty minutes after receiving her transmission, heading toward a cave. She was still awake when I got to her, but she passed out while I was putting up the tent."

It had been a long time since Luke had let himself relax. He found a chair beside Han's cot, and he sat down heavily, his head falling into shaky hands.

"She wasn't hurt otherwise?" Luke murmured.

"Nope. Just a little shaken, is all." Han offered a half shrug. "I did the best I could short of stuffing her into the stomach of my dead tauntaun. Apparently she's gonna be fine in a few hours."

"Thank the Force for that," Luke said dryly.

Behind them, Wedge shuffled his feet idly, and he leaned forward. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, "but I caught a bit of that debriefing. Are you really going to rescue Sabine, Luke?"

It did not surprise him that Wedge was interested in this, not really. Wedge and Sabine were relatively close, considering Sabine had recruited him and Hobbie.

"That is the plan," Luke said. He smirked up at Wedge, and tilted his head. "You interested in joining in? It's unsanctioned, you know."

"Yeah, I gathered," Wedge said with a roll of his eyes. "You're using Aphra, after all."

"She has her uses."

"Why do you even put up with her?" Han whined, wrapping his blanket further around himself. "She's the devil, Luke. The actual devil."

"She's literally just Aphra."

Luke could only rub his forehead and sigh. His decision to trust Aphra was such a sore subject with both his close friends  _and_  the members of High Command. He was always reeling, trying to come up with excuses for giving her chances that she didn't deserve. The fact was that Aphra had never actually failed him monumentally. Sure she had let him down a few times, but that was to be expected from such a wild card. He made his disappointment in her clear whenever she ended up selling some poor mummified king's bones on the black market, and she seemed legitimately guilty.

See, Luke knew that he had a way with Aphra. She respected him, and was desperate to gain and maintain his respect. That was why she was here.

If a woman who had spent most of her life cheating and screwing her way through life wanted to better herself, Luke was going to give her as many chances as it took. So long as she didn't betray him. Which, in the two years she had been working for him, she had not.

Luke quickly debriefed both Han and Wedge about his plan to retrieve Sabine Wren. Han had cut him off only to provide a witty name for the undertaking.

"Operation Birdcage," he'd supplied with a twist of his mouth. "'Cause she came up with the fire bird logo, and she's in prison."

"Clever," Wedge remarked.

Luke ended up falling asleep after Wedge left. He dreamed, but it was muddled and unclear. He was standing in a dimly lit tunnel, stumbling through the curved arched halls, his breath quick and uneven. The panic he felt was all-encompassing, and every step he took was uneasy. And then he stumbled to a stop, and blinked vacantly up at a shiny black helmet.

A sickly red glow splashed along his face and his hands and found its way into the pit of his heart.

The lightsaber in Vader's fist hummed as he approached.

The world came back all at once, the sanitized, blinding white walls of the medbay greeting him as he bolted upright with a gasp. His head had been resting on an empty cot, and the Force was swimming around him weakly. He could feel a tentative tap on his mental walls, a curious, worrying presence pressing up on his shields.

His eyes found Leia's like they were magnetized. They stared at each other in shock, her brown eyes huge and inquisitive beneath the furrow of her brow, while he knew his were just as large and filled with uncertainty.

"Leia!" Luke jumped to his feet and rushed to her side. She was lying in a cot, her back up against a wall, and Han was standing several feet away. "Thank the Force, you're okay!"

"Of course I'm okay." Leia frowned, and she folded her arms across her chest stubbornly. "It'll take more than the cold to kill me."

"Yeah," Han muttered, very clearly disgruntled and frustrated, "you're welcome."

Leia's gaze snapped to him, and she glared. "I had everything under control," she said coolly.

"You were  _literally_  freezing to death, hot shot!" Han pushed off the wall and jerked a finger at Leia's face. Luke quickly held up both his hands, planting a palm on Han's chest in attempt to mediate the situation.

"The Force would have protected me," Leia said in a wistful, almost offhanded tone. "Your presence was merely an extension of that."

"The Force did not save you, Leia!" Han gritted his teeth as he thumped his fist against his heart. "I did!  _Me_! A thank you would be nice!"

"I am not thanking you for being a half-way decent human being!" Leia snapped.

"Half-way?" Han's face crumpled momentarily before it hardened. "You know, if I were a lesser guy, I'd take offense, but you know what? I'm just glad you're okay."

Han lifted his hands up in surrender, and he bowed his head as he strode toward the door.

"Han," Luke sighed, taking a short, desperate step toward him. "Stop, she doesn't mean it like that."

"I gotta go," Han said breezily. "I've got business elsewhere."

"You do not!" Leia gasped.

Han jerked his head over his shoulder, his eyes ablaze. "Oh,  _now_  you care?" He sneered at her, and his shoulders slumped miserably before he left the room.

Luke rounded on her, and he placed his hands on his hips expectantly. Leia merely scowled down at her hands, her cheeks flushed and her jaw tight. Her long brown hair was loose around her shoulders, waved unevenly by the residual components of bacta.

“Really, Leia?” he sighed. “You know he’d do anything if you asked, but you keep pushing him away!”

“Because he’s a liar,” Leia said stiffly, “and a smuggler, and a— a stuck up, half-witted…” She bit her lip hard, and she slid down the wall and bundled herself in her blankets. “Scruffy-looking _nerf-herder_!”

Luke sighed deeply once more and sat down gingerly at the side of her bed. This was difficult. He was pretty awful with relationship advice, but even he knew that Han was absolutely head-over-heels for her. Even when he flirted with Luke, it was only to make Leia mad. Sometimes Leia tried to do the same, but when Luke saw how hurt that made Han, he shut her down. He didn’t like being used to make his own friends feel bad.

“He saved your life,” Luke told her very gently. She opened her mouth to object, and he shot her a look. “Leia. Your life. Really, are you so stubborn and ungrateful that you can’t muster up a thank you?”

“He was trying to convince me I was blubbering to him not to leave me,” Leia hissed, burying her nose in her blankets and glaring at the ceiling. “I don’t care how delirious I was, I would not do that.”

“Okay, Leia.” Luke rubbed his eyes tiredly. “But have you ever thought that maybe… I don’t know… Han really cares about you?”

“Isn’t Han like, in love with you?” Leia dropped her blanket and stared at him pointedly.

“No?” Luke laughed, and he kicked off his boots as he pulled his legs up onto her cot. “Han likes to tease me because I told him the age difference makes me uncomfortable. Also it riles you up.”

“What a _dick_ ,” she hissed. Her nose scrunched up momentarily before she blinked up at him curiously. “Wait, the age difference? It’s only like, ten years. That bothers you?”

“A little. Yeah?” Luke shifted uncomfortably. “I did a lot of reading when I was a kid about royalty who got married off to people decades their elder for the sake of political alliances. Of course, my parents would never do that, and they assured me dozens of times, but it always freaked me out.”

“Age on Tatooine is different, I guess,” Leia said quietly. “I never really thought of it that way. Ten years doesn’t seem like a lot to me, but I guess I just don’t have the standards you do.”

“Standards?” Luke asked her amusedly.

“You know,” she said with a small, teasing smirk. “Dreamy, chivalrous, doe-eyed knights who will come sweep me off my feet?”

“That’s rude,” Luke murmured, his cheeks growing warm as she laughed at him.

“I’m just joking, Luke,” she said gently, patting him on the shoulder. She looked down at her hands, and she sighed. “And for what it’s worth, I do care about Han. I just don’t like the idea that he could have something over me. He’ll just lord it over my head for months.”

“You should give him more credit than that,” Luke said. He leaned forward and took her hand. “Maybe even give him a chance? I swear he cares about you way more than you think.”

“Ugh.” Leia leaned her head back, and she scowled up at the ceiling. Then she slumped, and she murmured, “Maybe.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“I hate when you make me be reasonable,” she whined. She slumped forward and curled up against his side. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her gingerly. A sharp, stinging aroma wafted up from her hair and skin, the sanitized scent of dried bacta.

Absently, Luke stroked her head and closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he could relax and enjoy something as simple as a hug. It stung a little, knowing how far he was from the warmth of family and safety. War had cut him to size, like a diamond under pressure. He was faceted for a particular purpose, and now he was not sure he could go back to the raw and unkempt form he had been born into.

Suddenly a familiar, clipped voice rang over the loudspeaker. “ _Headquarters personnel, report to command center._ ”

Luke sighed, and he extricated himself from Leia’s arms. She pouted indignantly as he tucked her back into bed. “Stay,” he told her, holding his hands out imploringly.

She rolled her eyes and sank back into her cot. “Go,” she said, her voice strained from barely contained laughter.

By the time Luke reached Command Center, Han and Chewie had already gone out to investigate a droid spotted outside the base. He dropped into a chair beside a senior controller and threw a headset up over his ears.

“Han?” Luke leaned forward and peered at the monitor before him. “Talk to me. What are we looking at?”

He listened to Han scoff over the commlink, heavy winds crackling into his mic.

“ _Well,_ ” Han said, “ _I’d put my money on this thing being what Leia went off to investigate last night. Hate to admit that she was right._ ”

“What is it?” Luke asked, his voice taking on the clear, concise authority of a Rebel Commander.

“ _Was, more like_ ,” Han said grimly. “ _Not much left. But it was some kinda droid. Didn’t even hit it hard, it just sorta exploded. Self-destruct feature, maybe?_ ”

Luke exhaled shakily, and he met Rieekan’s eye over the head of the senior controller beside him. He gripped the cushions of his headset, and bowed his head.

“It’s an Imperial probe, Han,” he said. He couldn’t even help the breath of defeat in his tone. “You need to get back here.”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Han said, sounding vaguely concerned, but not as much as he should be. “ _Probably good to assume the Empire knows we’re here, huh?_ ”

Rieekan stood stiffly behind Luke, and he said, “We had better start the evacuation.”


	2. the drums of war

It was hard not to be relieved that they were evacuating this Force forsaken planet. After what Leia had been through, it was almost a blessing, really, that the Empire was coming to chase them off. Maybe the next base they went to would be blissfully warm and sunny. She missed warmth.

Despite the orders she had been given to stay in the medbay until authorized otherwise, Leia could not bear to stay idle another minute. So she dressed nimbly into her beige fatigues, her hair loose and wild around her head.

"Leia!"

Leia glanced over her shoulder at the A-wing pilot who had appeared in her bunk. Leia shared a barrack with a few different female pilots, but recently they were a bit scattered. She blinked up at the woman in alarm, not entirely used to seeing her face.

"Shara?" For a moment she gaped at the woman before her, her warm brown skin and unruly curls stark against the white walls around them. Then, overcome with excitement, Leia flung her arms around her friend's shoulders and laughed happily.

Shara Bey was much taller than Leia, and her build beneath her orange flight suit was strong and athletic. She hugged Leia tightly, laughing as she peered down at her belly curiously.

"Do you have holos?" Leia asked eagerly. Then she paused to consider Shara suspiciously. "Should you even be here? Poe's hardly even a year old."

"Poe will be fine without me for a week or two," Shara said simply. "Kes and my parents are all over him. Anyway, the longer I wait to get back into active duty, the harder it'll be. So here I am!"

"Here you are," Leia said, smiling at Shara softly. As happy as she was to see her friend, it did not settle right with her deep down, this thought that a mother had to leave her baby so early in order to fight. Kes Dameron was someone she knew in passing, and from what she knew about him, it was unlikely he'd be the stay-at-home husband for long.

Truthfully, Leia was worried for the baby. Poe Dameron was barely a year old. If his parents did not come home because of this crusade, what did that mean for him?

Leia knew all too well what that felt like, and she did not wish it upon any child.

"Sit," Shara said, plopping down on the bunk below Leia's. Leia sat down apprehensively. "Turn." Leia turned very slowly. She felt Shara drag her fingers through her hair, and she sat patiently as her friend parted it gingerly. "Why were you in bacta?"

"Ugh…" Leia groaned. "Can you really smell it?"

"It's a pretty strong smell."

Leia buried her face in her hands as Shara delicately began to braid her hair. "Stupid, no good ice planet," she muttered. "It tried to kill me!"

"The planet?" Shara sounded incredibly amused.

"Well, a wampa too! But mostly the planet."

"What a determined planet," Shara said absently. "Imagine if it succeeded where the likes of Darth Vader failed."

"Well," Leia said, "I imagine that'd really piss him off."

Shara crossed the smooth, even plaits of her braids over her head and secured them into place with two pins. Leia turned to face her, and she searched her face carefully. The scar on her brow seemed more prominent now, in the biting air of Hoth.

"Be careful, Leia," Shara said gently. "Do not be so rash."

"I…" Leia was taken aback. Shara was a friend, but she did not know her quite so well as, say, Luke or Han. Yet she was giving her a warning that she had heard over and over for nearly the whole of her life. She had to swallow down an objection. "Okay. I'll try."

Shara smiled down at her warmly, and she patted her head. They sat for a few minutes, Shara holding Leia's head, and Leia leaning into her quietly. She wouldn't say it out loud, but she missed having other women around so readily. Evaan, the Alderaanian pilot, had been transferred off Echo Base two weeks ago, and many of the other female pilots had other duties to attend to. They hardly had time to speak, and Leia busied herself with Rogue Squadron.

She missed Ahsoka. She missed Aunt Beru.

So this was nice. Even if it was just for a moment.

And then the moment ended, and they both stood, hugged briefly, and went their separate ways.

She got into her flight suit hastily when she entered the hangar. Wedge met her and handed her a heavy coat, clapping her on the back as she zipped it up.

"Barely back from Medical, and you're already getting ready to fight," he joked. "You're an odd one, Leia Skywalker."

"You are not the first man, nor the last to say that," she said, her dark eyes flickering up to his face wisely. "Now, Wedge, you ready to kick some Imperial ass?"

Wedge's smile broke like the rising dawn, and his teeth glisten. "Always," he said.

She bundled herself up as tightly as she could, and began to prep the ship for take off. Her gloves were thick, and made it difficult to get at the small crannies where ice might have caked over an important part. Taking a metal rod, she began to chip off the icicles at the nose of the speeder. Over the wing of it, she met Han's eye.

Setting aside her rod, she walked up to him casually. Her arms crossed smoothly over her chest, and she cocked her head up at him as he slid down from the top of the  _Falcon_.

"You here to apologize, darling?" Han asked, his neck craning to peer down at her. "It'd be real sweet if you were."

Leia stared at him blankly. Her nostrils flared, and she turned her attention sharply to the ship. "Is she in any shape to fly?" she asked, changing the subject abruptly.

Han blinked, and he groaned. "She's gotta be, huh?" He shot her a tight smile, and he shook his head. "We'll be alright."

"Han…" Leia inhaled deeply, and she rubbed her cheek with her gloved palm. "Please. Be safe."

He looked down at her, uncertainty and alarm crossing his features, and for a moment a disbelieving smirk crossed his face. Then, when he saw how serious she was, it fell away.

"Like I said, Leia," he said softly, "we'll be alright. But really… are you sure you're up for this?"

"I'm sure," Leia said firmly. She reached out, and she squeezed Han's arm reassuringly. "You're a good pilot, Han. May the Force be with you."

With that, she moved to turn away. She froze as he snatched her wrist and whirled her around. Her heartbeat thudded wildly, betraying her alarm and confusion. He had yanked her overwhelmingly close to him, close enough that she could smell his skin beneath the layers of clothes, and her breath caught inside her throat.

"Let go of me," she said weakly, listening to how pathetically reedy her voice was. Being caught in his gaze was about as terrifying as staring down Darth Vader. He looked at her, and she felt like he knew everything inside her head. That was scary. But she could not step back. She could not move. It was like she was bolted in place, trapped beneath his eyes.

And then Han took her by the back of the head gingerly, and leaned forward. She stood mutely, her mouth parted, as he planted a very delicate kiss on her forehead. His lips lingered perhaps a second too long, and she could hear her own heavy breathing. Why was she breathing so heavily?

The moment he pulled back, she took a large step away from him. She looked up at his face, her mouth wide open, and her eyes quick and unsure, searching his face expectantly. But his face gave her no answers. He merely stared at her, looking worn and timid for the first time ever.

Leia took another step back. And another. She turned around very fast, and she hunched a bit as she walked away.

He did not call her name. He did not call her back.

Her heart was in her throat, and she felt like it was bleeding out.

When she reached her speeder, Wedge was on the other side of it, his mouth open to ask a question she was not ready to answer.

"Don't," she said harshly, picking up her rod and smashing the last bit of ice off the stern of the speeder. She stopped for a moment, and she lifted her gaze toward the  _Falcon_. Han had turned his back, but his head was turned toward her. Their eyes met, and they watched each other somberly. She couldn't smile, she couldn't blink, she couldn't even breathe properly. She felt trapped and exhilarated.

The sudden wail of the base's alarms forced their eyes apart, and Leia looked up at the ceiling. Her heartbeat had not really stopped accelerating, and now she felt stupefied. Wedge caught her arm and dragged her toward the ring of pilots who had gathered around Luke. He looked nervous, his blue eyes glittering beneath the fringe of his hair. It was a bit unkempt nowadays, left to the wild winds of Hoth and graced with a slight wave.

"Hello," Luke said, straightening up and allowing his voice to carry. His eyes locked with Shara, and he tilted his head. "Shara Bey. I did not know you were back."

"I'm ready to fight," Shara said firmly.

Luke smiled at her, and then he sighed and closed his eyes. "Lieutenant Bey," he said, "I understand you've been on partial leave?"

"Partial," Shara said, her smile tight, "being the operative word. Am I cleared for flight, Prince Luke?"

"Unfortunately, I can't authorize that," he said. Upon seeing Shara's disappointment, he began again quickly. "I have something else you might be interested in, however. Speak to me after the briefing."

Shara's eyes brightened up. "Yes, sir," she said.

Luke turned his attention back to the rest of them. "All troop carriers are to gather at the north gate," he said. "Heavy transports are leaving as soon as they're loaded, and will only have two fighter escorts per ship. Stay very close to your escorts, or risk getting cut off by the energy shield. It's only open for a few minutes."

Hobbie piped up from beside Wedge. "Two fighters against a Star Destroyer? Those odds aren't the greatest, Luke."

"I know, Hobbie," Luke told him gently. "I understand your qualms, but the ion cannons your ships are equipped with should get any enemy fighters out of your way. Just be quick about it, and make for the rendezvous point as soon as you can. Got it?"

They all agreed at once, and it was a boisterous sound that rose up around them.

"May the Force be with you," Luke said. His eyes fell upon Leia, and for a moment the Force wailed around them with the uncertainty of a free-falling ship.

* * *

Shara Bey's dark eyes pierced through him as the pilots scrambled around them. He felt guilty for not allowing her to fly, but her A-wing was not on planet. She must have been dropped off with a few other rebels just before the base had been compromised.

"Hello, Lieutenant," he said.

Shara tilted her head, and she glanced around at the hectic, haphazard evacuation around them. "I don't believe we've formally met, Your Highness," Shara said, bowing her head respectfully.

"Please call me Luke," he said sheepishly. "Everyone else does. And also, I've seen you around. You and Leia are friends, aren't you?"

"There aren't as many female X-wing pilots as you'd expect," Shara said, smirking a bit. "So I think I know just about all of them."

"Leia doesn't make friends easily," Luke said quietly. "I'm glad you two get along."

"She's…" Shara frowned, and looked around them. There was such an overwhelming panic to the situation, and Luke understood that she was anxious. "I guess she's a bit of a hard pill to swallow, but we all love her for it. And I've heard you're quite the charmer, Prince Luke."

"Oh?" Luke was a bit taken aback. Nobody called him a charmer, though he supposed charming was a quality he could live with.

"Every pilot who works under you says it's like you're one of them." Shara folded her arms across her chest. "I even heard you're not such a bad pilot yourself."

"Would that I could, Lieutenant," he said quietly. "Would that I could. Anyway, forewarning: the mission I'm about to debrief you on is unsanctioned."

"What are the chances of me getting court martialed for it?" she asked curiously.

"None," Luke said with a wry grin, "because you are not on active duty. Wedge Antilles, Captain Rex, myself, and one of my personal agents will be going, and because it was my plan, I will take full responsibility for it if it goes wrong."

"What's the mission?"

"Intercept a ship on its way to the Citadel," Luke said. "Sabine Wren, one of our ammunition specialists, was captured six months ago during a siege on Concordia. Sabine's family, as well as Duchess Bo Katan Kryze, the Mand'alor, have ties to Death Watch, and in attempt to heal their planet and their people they have been appealing to both Mandalorians who supported the Mand'alor's late sister, Satine, and those who supported Death Watch. The Empire has been razing Mandalore for years, and in attempt to stoke the fire between the two factions, they attacked Concordia."

"Why capture Sabine Wren?" Shara asked. "If the Mand'alor was there, why not her?"

"Because Sabine was almost certainly less protected, and is also Mandalorian nobility." Luke shrugged. "Plus, she was once an Imperial cadet, and was highly praised for her munition expertise. She was a weapons specialist by the time she was fourteen."

Shara's expression did not change, but her eyes betrayed her shock and horror. "Then they're forcing her to make weapons?" Shara whispered.

"We don't know. But this might be our only chance to rescue her." Luke tilted his head, and he offered her a small smile. "Are you with me?"

"Yes." Shara straightened up, and she saluted. "I'll do whatever I can."

"Good, because we will almost definitely need a smart pilot," Luke said brightly, clapping her on the shoulder. "Wait over by the  _Arc Angel_. Tell Captain Rex that I sent you. And don't listen to Aphra, she's mostly all bark."

He pointed the  _Arc Angel_ out to her, and then went back to his duties in aiding the evacuation. He didn't know how much time he had, but he did not want to leave the base without being sure everyone was on a ship. He also had to be certain their computers were wiped.

Inside the command center, tensions were high. Luke sat down and began copying and wiping all their intel. Copying and wiping, copying and wiping. He listened to the sound of the battle outside, and he continued to copy and wipe. He sent out discs to whoever he saw leaving, knowing that if all their data was on separate transports heading for the same location, it would be useless apart, in case one was caught.

"Luke!" A small, gloved hand caught his shoulder, and he pushed his headset back to look up at Aphra's face. "What are you doing?  _Arc Angel_ 's just been cleared, it's time to go!"

Luke glanced at the monitor. There was still one more transport left.

"You go on, Aphra," he said.

"What?" Aphra squinted down at him. She'd acquired a thick, loose knitted blue cap that wore heavily on her wispy black hair. "What the hell are you going to do?"

"There's another transport," Luke said evenly. "I'll be fine. The mission comes first."

"You're part of this mission, remember?" Aphra gripped the back of his chair and leaned over him. "Hel _lo_? Earth to Luke! We cannot possibly do this without you."

"Aphra, don't sell yourself so short," he chuckled, copying and wiping the last file. The disc popped out of his monitor, and he handed it off to her. "Also, don't sell this. It's literally a log of the last dozen ships that docked here, and that is incredibly incriminating for you."

"You think of everything," Aphra grumbled, snatching the disc from him and scowling. They stared at each other for a long moment, and her anger seemed to subside. The wrinkle in her brow fell away and she watched him desperately. "Luke, please come with me. The Empire is  _here_. Right now. I can't afford to stay."

"I told you to go."

"Mmmmm!" Aphra stomped her foot like an impudent child, and she waggled her finger at him furiously. "See? See what happens? I try to be nice, and you make me feel like somehow I'm being selfish!"

"What? Aphra, what are you talking about?" Luke stood up and grabbed Aphra's arms. She was tiny, and the cold weather had flushed her cheeks. "I am trusting you right now to do what I can't. I can't bring myself to leave without knowing everyone else has gone first, and that means you too. Take the  _Arc Angel_ , go to the rendezvous point, and wait for me there. If I don't show up, I need you to do the mission without me."

"Did I not just say that we can't do it without you?" Aphra flung her arms into the air in frustration. "Come on! Let's go! I don't have the patience, or the heart for this. I will stun you, mister!"

"Aphra," Luke said gently. "Listen to me very carefully. You, Rex, Wedge Antilles, and Shara Bey, are going to go on this mission without me. Liuetenant Bey will pilot the  _Arc Angel_ , while you, Rex, and Wedge will infiltrate the freighter. You and Rex have my plan already, you know how I was going to do it, so  _do it_. You don't need me to be successful."

"Yeah, but I  _do_  need you to help me be good! Come on, Luke!"

"You're good all on your own, Aphra," Luke told her with a small smile. He handed her a commlink, ignoring the baffled look she gave him, and he turned away. "Tell Rex to send a transmission to Hera once you're in free space. She'll know what to do."

Aphra's lips tugged downwards, and Luke realized with one last glance that he had truly upset her. She stood with her fists at her sides, her chin lowering toward her chest. And then she whirled away.

"Don't die, Organa," she said quietly. "People still need you."

Luke smiled at her back as she marched away. It was heartening, sometimes, realizing how much he had influenced her for the better.

Then he swallowed hard, and went back to the monitor.

* * *

The seatbelt crossed over Dack's chest was stuck. Leia yanked at it vainly, and she kick the armored hood of the speeder up, listening to it click and feeling the bite of the vicious Hoth wind as it lifted over them. She closed her eyes and felt along the buckle, and pushed it free with the Force. The belts snapped back, and Leia yanked Dack by his underarms, dragging him out of the speeder with all of her strength.

They both fell into the snow, collapsing into a bank as the foot of a walker crushed her speeder. She lifted herself shakily and stared at the mighty steel leg, gaping at it momentarily.

"Damn it," she hissed, fishing her commlink out of her jacket and lifting it to her trembling lips. "Rogue Three! Little help over here!"

Wedge's voice crackled in the chilly air. " _Copy, Rogue Leader_."

"I am literally stranded right now." Leia lifted her head to peer at the sky, which was clear except for the trails of smoke. "My gunner's down, and my speeder was just crushed. I gotta get Dack to Medical!"

" _I'm contacting someone right now,_ " Wedge said. " _We're coming around. Just sit tight._ "

"Sit tight…" Leia muttered, dropping into a crouch and rolling Dack onto his back. There was blood trailing down his face, but she found a pulse when she searched for it. "You're one lucky son of a bitch, Dack."

Leia chewed on the inside of her cheek as the AT-AT swiveled its small head toward her. She stood up, snow falling from her knees like dust, and she stepped over Dack's body defensively. She slipped her lightsaber out from beneath her jacket, and flicked her wrist. The blue blade was stark against the all-encompassing whiteness around them, and she bent her knees as she blocked several hits from the walker in a quick succession. She began to methodically divert the course of them, standing over Dack for what felt like several minutes merely deflecting bolts.

Another speeder rolled up to her just as Wedge's team took the walker before her down with a harpoon. She sighed in relief as she straightened, and faced the team who had been dispatched to gather Dack.

"Get him on the last transport," she ordered, supporting Dack's back as they helped him into the speeder.

" _You good, Rogue Leader_?" Wedge asked her.

Leia sighed and searched the horizon. There were so many walkers, and she really did not know where to start. She should have led a ground assault to begin with.

_Perhaps don't be so cocky, Leia,_  a voice in her head warned, the bit of her conscience that always sounded way too much like Ben.

She needed to act fast. Regardless of how reliable her ability was.

"I'm fine, Rogue Three," Leia said tersely. "Just give me a minute. I'm thinking."

The ground assault team was scattered across the barren white field. Black, oily trails of smoke were rising toward the bleak and blinding sky where both speeders and walkers had fallen. She stepped forward, and even above the din of firing blasters and stomping AT-ATs, even above the cries of dying men and screeching machinery, she could hear the ice and snow crack beneath her feet.

Leia took a deep breath. The icy air knifed through her lungs.

She bolted forward, snow kicking up beneath her feet as she darted across the ground and leapt into the air. The nearest walker was not concerned with her, and rather focused on shooting down an armored speeder in front of it. She held her lightsaber with both hands as she sliced through the left hind leg of the walker, and rolled out from under it as it stopped and buckled. She returned to her feet and dashed to the front leg, biting her lip and cutting downwards with all her might.

It rocked feebly, and Leia dove out of its path as it crashed into the snow. It shot wildly at the air, like a body taking its last breath.

" _Kriffin' hells, Leia!_ " Wedge yelled into her ear. " _Leave some for the rest of us._ "

"Quit being so slow," she replied, albeit breathlessly. She realized two more walkers had turned and adjusted their course to face her. She tilted her head, and crouched where she stood.

The blaster bolts came raining, and all she could see was the blur of her own lightsaber as it arced through the air. Blue was swishing around her like a curtain, and the steady hum of it bled through her. She did not know the sting of a bolt, because the Force had gathered itself around her, and she could sense every volley of shots that came at her. She curved her lightsaber, stepping forward and leaning into the assault, her arm moving rhythmically to deflect every flash of light that bolted her way.

One AT-AT went crashing, harpooned by Wedge's speeder when it was distracted. Because of this, Leia was able to focus on the other walker, and she began deflecting bolts as she ran. She jumped up and slashed both front legs in two quick spins. She slid out from between the walker's hindlegs as it tipped forward and crashed onto its nose.

" _I'd hate to say it,_ " Wedge said, " _but it feels like we're winning. That lightsaber's real good for taking down walkers, huh?_ "

"If you know how to use it, yeah," Leia scoffed. "Didn't I tell you I was a Jedi?"

" _Hardly get to see you in action, Rogue Leader. It's certainly a sight._ "

Leia heard the callsign for them to retreat to their X-wings. She swallowed hard, and took an unsteady step back, searching her immediate surroundings for any survivors on the snowbanks. Then she backpedaled, and whirled around, rushing toward the slope where their ships were hidden.

A ship roared over them, and Leia blinked up instinctively. Relief trickled over her as the  _Millennium Falcon_ swooped overhead, almost dangerously close to the ground and making a sound like a dying dragon. She might have sunk to the ground and prayed if not for the immediacy of their escape.

She headed toward her ship, nodding curtly to another pilot whose X-wing was nearby, and she popped the hood.

"Okay, Artoo," she said, flipping toggle switches left and right as the engine warmed up. "Get us in the air."

Wedge's X-wing rolled up beside hers, his hood still open. "Leia," he called. She glanced up at him in alarm. "Good luck, okay? I'll see you at the rendezvous point!"

Leia stared at him before nodding absently. And then he was gone.

She lowered herself fully into the cockpit and let the hood fall over her. Artoo beeped wildly, concern flashing onto her monitor.

"Hush, Artoo," she sighed. "We're going, okay?"

The engine began to roar as the wheels beneath her slid against the snow. The small ship took off, blasting from the icy crust of Hoth and shooting into space. Her back slammed familiarly back against her seat as the atmospheric shift hit her body. For a moment everything was crushing her, and she could not breathe.

And then it was all light as a feather, and the inky blackness of space welcomed her like an old friend.

Leia began manually readjusting the course. Her head felt hazy.

She could hear Artoo's beeping before she even read the monitor. She sighed, and she shook her head.

"I'm not going to the rendezvous point, Artoo," she said. "We have to go somewhere else."

_Why?_  Said the readout.

"Because Ben told me to." Leia finished punching in the coordinates, and she took a deep breath. Her gloved hand fell heavily upon the lever that would take her to hyperspace. "Well, here goes nothing. To Dagobah."

She punched the lever, and the stars slanted around her like crashing lights.

* * *

Luke fell forward as another chunk of ice collapsed in the hall, the walls around them quaking. He held his head, and shakily pushed the headset from his ears. They were ringing a bit.

"Luke!"

He turned suddenly at the sound of Han's voice, watching in alarm as he slid into the command center, gripping the wall and staring at Luke expectantly.

"Han, what…?" Luke shook his head. "You were cleared for take of already! Why are you still here?"

"Because I was worried about you, you idiot!" Han scowled. "And for good reason. This place is about to collapse!"

Luke bit his lip. He shot one last look around the command center, and he felt a pang of fear. What if he had not cleared everything? What if there were still people on base? What if…?

The overhead speaker rattled as a voice rang out to say, "Imperial troops have entered the base."

Real, true fear passed over Luke. Shadows skittered around the edge of his vision and pressed hard on his chest. He felt like a ghost had just walked through him, and he tried to gather up his strength, tried to remember his father's face when he stepped out to address the Senate, back when he still could bring up viable issues. Controversial issues. He tried to put on a brave face, like Bail Organa, like Breha Organa, but he could feel his hands shaking, and that only made it all worse.

"Han!" Luke cried as Han snatched his arm and dragged him out into the hall. He twisted to shout back at the head controller. "Send out the evacuation order, and get out of here! Don't you dare miss that transport!" And then he stumbled into the corridor, shooting an irritated glare up at Han's face. "This isn't necessary, I can get to a ship on my own."

"Aphra told me you wouldn't leave," Han spat. "Come on, Your Highness, are you really that dumb? If even Aphra's worried sick, there's a problem."

"I had things I needed to do before I left," Luke said defensively. "This base held secrets, and we couldn't just let the Empire have it all!"

"You were too careful about it," Han snapped. "What you should have done was just wreck the whole thing. You can't get any data from busted hard drives, can you?"

"No, you can't, which is  _also_  a problem for us," Luke said with a roll of his eyes. "You can let go of me now, you know. I don't really plan on going anywhere."

"Yeah," Han muttered, "that's kinda the whole problem."

"Really, Han?"

Another shell collided with the base, and the corridor behind them collapsed with a shudder and a groan. Threepio let out a garbled yell as he began to fall, and Han quickly let go of Luke in order to catch him. Luke braced himself against an ice wall, covering his head with his hands as small chunks of ice came free and fell upon his hair.

Han grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved him forward, hovering over him protectively as they rushed through the unstable halls. Everything around them seemed to be crumbling, like sandcastles that had gotten too dry. The sounds of the war outside were pervasive, and he felt every blast on their base like a punch in the gut. Luke raised his eyes only to find himself blinded by shimmering particles of loose snow shaving off the tops of the halls.

"Han!" Luke caught Han's sleeve and yanked him back. The Force swelled and bellowed around him, smacking him right in the face and sending him reeling backwards. He and Han went sprawling to the ground as a shell crashed into the tunnel they were in, and the ceiling collapsed, shattered ice skittering at their feet as they scrambled away from the cave in.

Han threw back his hood, his cheeks ruddy and his eyes wide as the ice settled before them. Then he muttered frantically under his breath, and he helped Luke to his feet. His commlink was in his fist before Luke could even really blink.

"Transport, this is Solo," he said, turning Luke around and pushing him back down the corridor. "Better take off— I can get the prince out on the  _Falcon_."

Luke exhaled shakily, and he and Han took off at once, rushing down the way they had come, their feet clapping heavily as they went. Threepio lagged behind them, and begged hysterically, "Wait for me!"

"Threepio," Luke gasped, slowing down and turning to look back at the droid. "Hurry up!"

"I'm hurrying, Master Luke!"

Han gripped Luke's shoulder, and they both ducked through a narrow passage, breathless and red-faced as they entered the hangar. The door slid shut behind them, and Luke paused to look back worriedly. Han met his eye, and he huffed. He strode back up to the door and allowed it to slide open before he snatched Threepio and yanked him inside.

"Come on," he grumbled, shoving Threepio toward the  _Falcon_. He glanced at Luke as they hurried forward, and he shook his head. "I swear, I don't know how this droid has lived this long."

"He's smart," Luke said defensively. "Leave him alone."

It was then that Luke became acutely aware of the cold, familiar presence that swooped over him like a cloak. He choked a bit, stumbling to a stop as Chewie spotted them from beneath the  _Falcon_  and yowled in sheer relief.

Luke turned his head toward the door of the hangar. His mouth fell open, and his shoulders slumped.

"Luke!" Han cried. Luke jumped, his whole body tingling like he had spent half a day under ice, and he turned to stare at Han. He was halfway up the  _Falcon_ 's ramp, gesturing emphatically for Luke to join him. "What're you off day-dreaming for? Don't you know there's a war going on?"

The presence was growing stronger, and it nipped at his heels, lapping like the unruly waves of an ocean before a storm. It took a lot for Luke to step forward, and then to step forward again, and then to jog helplessly up the ramp and smile up at Han as the man clapped him on the back. They rushed through the ship, and Luke hung back as Han dropped into the pilot's chair. He began flipping a variety of toggle switches.

"How's this?" he asked Chewie. Chewie tested it, and let out a short howl as he shook his head. Han wrinkled his nose and hissed through his teeth.

"Do you need me to do something?" Luke asked anxiously. "I know my way around a toolbox."

"Not now, Luke," Han sighed. "Maybe when we have more time."

"But—!" Luke's voice was small and indignant. He shut his mouth and backed up into the corner. If Han didn't trust his skills as a mechanic because he was a prince, that was not his problem.

"Shit," Han hissed, buckling up suddenly as he peered through the cockpit window. Luke pushed off the wall and stared vacantly at the sudden rush of stormtroopers flooding the hangar. Without hesitation, Luke flung himself into the nearest chair and strapped himself in hastily.

A blaster bolt nicked the side of the window, just grazing metal casing and ricocheting sharply. Han swiveled the nose guns on the  _Falcon_ , and opened fire on the first wave of troopers that came rushing toward the ship.

Chewie's heavy footfalls clattered behind them, and Han grimaced as he shouted over his shoulder, "Come on, come on! Switch over." Chewie jumped into his seat, his belt falling haphazardly over him. Luke leaned forward and buckled it as he flicked a switch. "Let's hope we don't have a burnout."

"Han," Luke sighed, "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Gimme a break, kid!" Han yelped, wincing as another bolt knocked against the window. Chewie let out a sharp yowl, and he yanked back on the yoke. The rear engine roared into life, and Luke found himself gripping his chair fearfully. The sound of engine fire got Han grinning ear to ear, and he twisted to face him. "See? Ain't she the best?"

"Please,  _please_ , just go!" Luke gasped.

Han licked his lips, and he turned to look at Chewie. His eyes glittered as he nodded.

"Punch it," he said.

The engine roared as Chewie's massive fist yanked down on the lever, and the landing gear groaned as the ship hovered off the ground and shot forward through the yawning hangar doors, out through the cave, and into the air.

Nausea crept through him like an intruder in his home. He sat for a moment, breathless and cold, and he turned his head hesitantly toward the back of the ship. As though maybe he might see through the metal and the engine fire and the screen of snow, and lock eyes with the newly arrived Darth Vader.

But the sensation disappeared as rapidly as it had come, and Luke forced himself to turn his eyes forward once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like aphra, shara bey was sorta a split second decision. i wanted leia to interact with a female pilot, and she was the first one to come to mind. initially i wrote her scene and she had only been on leave for a month, but then i looked up when poe was born and it didn't seem to fit the timeline. so if that scene seems a little awkward, that's why. i had to rearrange it a bit.


	3. the art of patience

Luke found himself running between the cockpit and the central hold, ducking into a pit in order to patch a coolant leak, climbing back up and checking the deflector shields, and then rushing in on Han doing a similar roundabout, his eyes and feet roving the entire deck while he shouted nonsense.

"Those Star Destroyers are gaining on us, Luke!" He moved fast, his hands flicking a series of switches on the board above the cockpit.

"I know," Luke said wanly.

"Chewie! The deflector shields!"

"I just checked them, Han," Luke said, shaking his head furiously. "It's— it's bad. I couldn't get them to stabilize."

"Oh," Han muttered, whisking his fingers through his hair, "wonderful. Well, we can still outmaneuver them."

Luke bit his lip. He knew he could do more if he had the right tools, but Han was too busy to ask. Then he looked out the cockpit window, and he stared in awe as the massive gray structure of a Star Destroyer came into full view. Luke gripped the back of the chair he had been sitting in, and Han glanced at him. His eyes widened, and he kicked Luke's chair before settling back into his own.

"Strap in!" he shouted, yanking his own belts of his chest and gripping the console while doing a quick check of their guns. Mutely, Luke dropped down into his chair.

"Threepio," Luke gasped, "hold onto something!"

"Hold onto what, Master Luke?" Threepio asked, sounding unsure. "What should I—? Oh no!"

The droid stumbled back into a wall as the  _Falcon_  tipped back, and then dipped forward beneath the Destroyer. Luke realized that there was another incoming Star Destroyer beneath them, and they had forced them both on a collision course.

Luke held his breath as they shot away from the massive ships, sweat prickling his brow as Han fumbled with another switch.

"Prepare to make the jump to lightspeed," he said.

"But, sir!" Threepio cried.

The growing din of the war outside grew louder and louder, and Luke glanced between Han and Chewie nervously. "Han," he said softly. "If we get caught—"

"Nobody's getting caught today, Your Worship!" Han snapped, full of bravado and gleaming pride. "Watch this."

He slammed down a lever, and Luke blinked out at the twinkling stars around them. They seemed to cluster around the  _Millennium Falcon_ 's wide, circular window like dust on an old table. And yet, they remained still and static, unmoving and unflinching as pillars in a temple.

Luke unhooked his belt, and he unzipped his vest.

Han tried the lever again, vainly. He wetted his lips, and he glanced back at Luke. "I think we're in trouble," he admitted.

"If I may say so, sir," Threepio began, waddling up to Han and making small hand motions, "I noticed earlier that the hyperdrive motivator has been damaged. It's impossible to jump to lightspeed!"

Han blinked ahead of him slowly, a vacant look passing over his face. "We're in trouble," he said flatly.

"Where do you keep your tools?" Luke demanded.

Han wrinkled his nose, and he glanced up at Luke incredulously. There was no time for such pettiness, and Luke's patience was wearing thin. He rolled up his sleeved to his elbows and stared at Han pointedly.

"Your tools, Han!" Luke snapped his fingers impatiently. "Let's go!"

"They're in the fresher."

"Thank you." Luke turned away sharply. "Get us as far from the gunners as possible. I'll get the hyperdrive running."

It was, in fact, a thankless task. He had seen a motivator like this back in Aldera, when he had snuck out as a child and begun taking on apprenticeships where he could. There was no doubt in his mind that he could fix it, but the trouble was the lack of equipment and, of course,  _time._  His fingers were nimble as they gutted the control panel, wires stuck between his teeth as he began to chip away excess coolant that had leaked onto the sides.

"How're you doing, kid?"

Luke looked up at Han's face, which floated over the edge of the pit, and he pushed the too-big goggles up onto his head. "Do you have any hydrospanners?" he asked, tacking the wires that had been in his mouth to the control panel.

"You bet." Han disappeared for a minute, and Luke took a deep breath as he started welding. The gloves were too big too, meant for Han's hands, and he found it difficult to keep his grip.

Working on something mechanical for the first time in what Luke realized might be years was cathartic. He could switch his brain off, and his fingers did all the work for him. He methodically replaced loose capsules, and tightened up screws that must have been rusting away for years. He did not think of Darth Vader, and he found himself, blessedly, at peace.

And then he was sent tumbling onto his side, his head smacking sharply on the wall of the pit, and he cried out in pain. Something had collided sharply with the side of the ship, and they'd gone rolling. He sat in an uncomfortable heap at the bottom of the pit, his tools fallen around him, and he nursed the bruise on the side of his head.

"Luke!" Han called, sounding a bit frantic. "Get up here!"

Rubbing his head irritably, Luke climbed out of the pit in the hold. He slouched as he pushed his goggles up and stepped into the cockpit. He stopped and gaped at the thousands of floating rocks sailing right for them.

"Oh," Luke said faintly, dropping back into his seat. "Well… that'll do it, I guess."

"Strap in, Your Princeliness," Han said, easing the ship forward. "It's about to get bumpy."

"Got it." Luke tightened his seatbelt, and he closed his eyes. If there was anything he had learned in the past three years, it was that the Force was with him, and he had to trust it. Also, Han was a madman, but his stunts usually paid off.

They swooped through the maze of asteroids, narrowly dodging disaster as the ship dipped and dove, sliding narrowly through slim gaps. His breath escaped him as an asteroid knocked into the side of the  _Falcon_ , and they were sent rolling through space. Luke gritted his teeth as he gripped his seatbelts, his head snapping forward violently.

"I almost wonder if it would be better to be captured," Luke wondered aloud. Han huffed at that.

"Sir," Threepio supplied in a helpful, if not defeated tone, "the possibility of successfully navigating the asteroid field is approximately three thousand, seven hundred and twenty to one."

Han exhaled sharply through his nose, and he declared, "Never tell me the odds!"

Luke sunk in his chair as he watched oncoming asteroids sail past them. They were making crazy, haphazard turns, jerking around and orbiting several enormous rocks while TIEs exploded behind them. As they moved, Luke closed his eyes and broadcasted his fear into the Force. For all he knew, Vader could probably feel his terror.

They all grunted at once as a smaller asteroid smashed into the side of the  _Falcon._  The sound of grinding metal made them all shrink, as though they had all been smacked up sideways. The belt around Luke seemed to cut into his chest, and he exhaled shakily as he shook his head.

"Han, we can't stay in here any longer," he gasped. "Get us out of here now, before we're crushed!"

Han looked thoughtful as he stared out into the onslaught of asteroids. "Huh," he said. "You're right."

"I'm…?" Luke studied Han curiously. He turned to look at Chewie. "Did he say I'm right?"

"I'm gonna get closer to one of the big ones, I think."

Luke bit his tongue to keep himself from erupting at Han in frustration. This was a crazy plan to begin with, and it only seemed to get crazier. He had to trust that it would work, or they'd all die.

"Closer," Luke muttered, leaning forward and chewing on his nails. "Okay, Han… I'm trusting you on this."

"Heh…" Han smiled nervously.

They all were on edge, gripping whatever they could get their hands on with white knuckles as the  _Falcon_  dipped down close to a slowly turning, moon-sized asteroid. The pitted surface of the gray rock looked hazardous, like a death trap in waiting.

Luke checked the monitor, and he licked his dry lips nervously. "TIEs," he said quietly.

"We'll lose 'em," Han muttered.

Sure enough, the TIEs behind them were crushed by two colliding asteroids hurled at each other by the whim of the Force. The explosion rocked the  _Falcon_ 's heels, and they all fell forward, clashing into their seatbelts and groaning.

"Oh, this is suicide!" Threepio cried.

"Shh!" Luke gripped his chair tightly. "We're trusting Han, Threepio. We're gonna get through this!"

"You bet we are," Han said with a slight grumble to his tone. He peered over the surface of the asteroid, and he elbowed Chewie. "Hey, this looks good, doesn't it?"

Luke stared at the ugly gray surface, and he tried to understand what Han meant.

"Yeah…" Han nodded to himself. "That'll do nicely."

The ship buckled a bit as it skimmed low towards the surface, and then dipped into a large, gaping crater. The beginnings of understanding began to bloom at the corners of his mind as the  _Falcon_  dove straight in.

"Do you really think this can hide us?" Luke asked.

Han exhaled, and he looked at Luke tiredly. "Look," he said. "I don't know. It might not work, but it's the only plan I've got."

Luke did not want to fight with him. So he nodded, and stared forward. "Let's make it count," he said softly.

* * *

The moment her X-wing touched the foggy atmosphere of Dagobah, she felt a shift in the Force. It seemed like she was being enveloped in a deep haze, like she had fallen into a dream and was wading waist deep in feathers. Nothing had ever felt like this before. It was like stepping out of her body and into sunlight.

But the planet was perpetually clouded over, and she was lost in a thick miasma.

Without her sight, and with the fog only growing thicker around her, she turned off the heavy-weather alarms that began to wail around her. Instead of looking into the fog for answers, she closed her eyes and felt with the Force.

Artoo began to warble.

"I'm landing, Artoo," Leia sighed. "Don't ask, okay? I know what I'm doing."

The X-wing broke through a thick canopy of vines, and she pulled up viciously before her ship could crash land. It skimmed the edge of a small swamp, and her landing gear became stuck in a lump of mud. Leia sat for a moment, breathing in and out deeply. Taking in the grandiose presence of the Force itself curling around her like smoke.

Was this what the Jedi Temple had felt like?

Leia popped the hood of the cockpit and pulled her helmet off. She poked her head out into the thick, humid air, and she drummed her fingers against the side of her ship thoughtfully.

"Huh," she said, unzipping her heavy overcoat and leaving it in her seat. "At least it's not cold."

Artoo made a quick, anxious sound as she hopped out of the X-wing and tested the ground. Her boots sank into the soft dirt, and she bent down to gather the silt between her gloved fingers. Everything around her smelled earthy and natural. Completely untouched by the scourge of civilization. Leia could appreciate that.

"Shh, shh!" Leia patted the side of her ship and rubbed Artoo's dome affectionately. "Hey. Shut up, you. I'm just gonna look around, so I want you to stay here and guard the ship. We don't know what's lurking out here. Okay?"

Artoo whistled a low, sad affirmation.

"Good." Leia turned away and glanced around her. There was nothing immediately to see except a dozen twisted, gnarled trunks that rose up into the air and disappeared into the fog. Mist gathered all around her, and she could taste the acidity in the air. Sweat had begun prickling the back of her neck.

It was unlike any planet she'd ever been on before. She felt a little reverent as she stepped carefully over protruding, tangled roots to examine the soft bark of the massive trees more closely. It felt like the world around her was almost breathing, and she could feel her heart beating rhythmically in time to the croaking bogs around her.

Leia returned to her ship and helped Artoo down onto solid ground. The little droid began to sing in eclectic boops and beeps around her, chortling as she retrieved her pack and her box of equipment from her ship. Settling where she had landed was probably the best idea, considering dusk was steadily creeping upon them. Leia could tell because the fog was growing thicker, and the shadows lining the eerie, twisted trees were becoming more prominent.

Her vest fit into her pack, and she touched the holo disc beneath her shirt instinctively. It was still there. Then she began to rummage through her things, taking inventory quickly, and finding herself relaxing as she counted all the baubles Uncle Owen had made for her, all the dried flowers tied up with string and casting out a faint, alien aroma on this swampy planet. The few bits of clothing she had were stuffed at the bottom. Spare undergarments, her yellow jacket that Han had let her steal, a spare white shirt, some trousers with a hole in the knee.

When Artoo began vocalizing his doubts about their presence here, Leia tried to keep up her determination.

"I can feel how strong the Force is here, Artoo," she said, plopping down beside her droid and brushing some dirt from his silver dome. Then she turned and pulled a plug from the fusion box and carefully applied it to Artoo's charging socket. "I'm sorry I dragged you out here. I know we're missing the rendezvous point, but as long as we have the X-wing powered up, I think we can manage to find them. Okay?"

Artoo warbled softly.

She closed her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chest. "I miss Luke too," she said quietly. "But we have to do this first. Okay?"

The light from the fusion box was warm and steady. She pulled a ration stick from her pack and bit into it. The chalky residue outside it peppered her lips, and she chewed thoughtfully. Her senses were all heightened and on alert, and she felt the all too familiar sting of someone close by. Watching her. She took another bite of her ration stick, and it snapped between her teeth.

"Hello," she said without turning around. She licked her lips and let her hand drift toward the blaster at her side. "You can come out. I won't hurt you."

There was a soft rustling behind her as a croaky voice hummed at her inquisitively. "Your hand on your weapon, that is why, hm?"

Leia lifted her fingers from her blaster and held her hands up as she turned to face the creature. She peered at them curiously, noting its green, shriveled face and withered, three fingered hands. It was tiny and thin, cloaked in thin rags that dragged against the damp forest floor. A walking stick wobbled feebly in its grip.

"I'm sorry," she said gently. "That was just instinctual."

The creature hid its face from her as it waddled carefully through her makeshift camp. Her eyes trailed after it, and she wondered silently if this was the Jedi Master that she was meant to find. She tried to conjure up any story Ben had ever told her about Master Yoda, but he had never been detailed enough to suggest what he had looked like.

"I am wondering," said the creature, its frog-like voice wheezing through the thick air, "why are you here?"

Leia smiled, and she looked around her wistfully. "I guess you don't get very many visitors," she said, making light of the situation and leaning forward teasingly. "Don't worry, I'm not here to harm anything or anyone. If you're not comfortable with my presence, I can leave."

The tiny creature's ears perked up, and he tilted her head toward her curiously. "Leave?" he echoed. "So soon?"

"Only if you want me to," Leia said softly. She studied the creature's face carefully, and she inched closer as he looked around her camp. "I'm actually here for a reason. I'm looking for someone."

"Looking?" He lifted his cane and bobbed his head. "Found someone, you have, I would say, hmm?" Then the little creature laughed, an odd wheezing sound like an accordion falling over.

"I guess I have," she said. "Why don't you sit down?"

The creature blinked up at her, and he moved closer tentatively. "Help you, I can," he said. "Yes, mmmm…"

Leia couldn't help but laugh. The creature eyed her, and she quickly quieted down. "Please!" she gasped, nodding to him humbly. "I don't really know where I am or what I'm doing, so having a local around would be nice. Can you help me find who I'm looking for?"

Once more the creature hummed, tapping the end of his stick against the ground. "Depends, it does," he said. "Prepared, are you, to seek and not find?"

She sat quietly, digesting his words and trying to make sense of them. There was only so much her cache of patience could take, and she suddenly wished she had Luke here. He had a limitless supply of patience, and had taken enough philosophy classes in his youth that this might make sense to him.

"Are you saying… who I'm looking for is not here?" she asked uncertainly. "Or that the person I seek no longer exists, in a sense? So the great warrior I'm looking for… might not be here."

"Ahhh, a great warrior!" the creature breathed. Then he laughed, and began waddling forward again, looking around him curiously. "Wars not make one great."

Leia frowned, and she did not immediately reply. She stood up sharply as the creature began sifting through her things, rummaging through her pack before snatching up the ration stick she had started eating.

"Are you hungry?" she gasped, a stab of sympathy running through her. She bit her lip, her stomach knotting up in hunger pangs. Sighing, she gripped her elbows and nodded. "You can have that, if you want."

The creature took a bite of the stick, and immediately spat it out. Leia winced at the sight of wasted food.

"How you get so big, eating food of this kind?" he asked ruefully.

"Well," Leia said amusedly, placing a hand on her hip, "I guess I seem big to you, but by human standards I'm pretty small."

"Ho, ho!" The creature nudged her leg with his stick. "Small, you are? Not your father do you take after."

Leia stood, her shoulders slumping as the tiny creature crawled into her equipment box and began pulling things out.

"You're Yoda," she said somberly.

Yoda lifted a small lamp, and shook it playfully. It glinted in the dim fog. "The one you seek, Yoda it is?" He sounded excited.

"It's you," Leia said firmly. She dropped to her knees beside the tiny Master, and she picked up the box he had dropped and laid it on her pack. "Master Yoda, don't pretend. I know you know why I'm here, and you know I know it's you."

"Pretending, you think I am," Yoda mused. He wiggled the small lamp, and he held it up. "Mine."

"You can have it." Leia stared into his eyes, and she waited patiently for him to quit fiddling with the lamp. Then he paused, looked up at her, and he nodded.

"Dinner, we shall have," he said.

"Okay." Leia stood up straight and gestured forward. "Lead the way, Master."

There was a brief wave of anxiety at the thought of leaving her things unattended. On Tatooine, abandoning even a wrench in the middle of the desert was enough to send the Jawas lurking. It was important to keep everything valuable close at hand, so Leia instinctively snatched her aunt's japor snippet from within her pack.

"Can you watch the camp for me, buddy?" Leia asked, tying the snippet around her neck and smiling. Artoo beeped an affirmative, and then voiced his concerns about her going off alone. "Oh, don't be a baby. I'll be fine."

The walk from her camp to Yoda's home was brief. She sent a silent prayer of gratitude out to the Force for allowing her to land so close to him. She ducked beneath the canopy of trees and pulled off her gloves, reaching out to touch a tree trunk with her bare fingers.

"I don't think I've ever seen a planet like this," she said thoughtfully. "It's different."

"My home, it is," said Yoda.

"Does it make you happy?"

Yoda tilted his head, and he hummed. "What a home does, that is," he said.

Leia tried not to think about how long it had been since she had called a place home. It made her stomach twist uncomfortably, and she tried to stuff away her feelings of discontent. Somehow, it felt like there would be no home again. Like she would be drifting through space forever, unable to find roots.

"Earlier," Leia said tentatively, "you said something about my father. How well did you know him?"

"First, food," Yoda told her.

Leia stopped and frowned at the small creature's back. She had a feeling this little thing was really going to try her patience.

* * *

Repairs were coming along nicely, Luke thought to himself, now that they weren't being chased frantically through open space and an asteroid belt. He had been welding for a few hours now, and he felt confident in everything he had done thus far.

It was so easy to get lost in his own head, and he was glad for this distraction. It felt like being home. Tightening bolts, welding a leak shut. He found himself smiling as he knelt among the tools and the damp, blackened rags, taking apart a complex string of wires and rearranging them.

There was a tricky valve that would not work, and Luke found himself blowing into the socket before testing the lever. It did not budge.

"Karabast," he swore, kicking the wall irritably.

A hand reached over his head, and he blinked as Han's fingers fell over his and yanked the lever down. The valve rumbled a bit as it was kicked into life.

"Thanks," Luke said, attempting to drag his hand away. Han held it tight, and Luke stared for a moment. His mouth fell open. "Are you really gonna do this again?"

"Do what?" Han asked defensively.

" _This_." Luke held up his hand in Han's, and he stepped back when Han stepped forward with a coy smirk. His dark gaze fell to Luke's bare fingers, and he flipped his palm over thoughtfully.

"Your hands are pretty callused," he said flippantly. "For a prince."

"I like getting my hands dirty," Luke said defensively.

Han lifting his chin, and his eyebrows shot up. "Oh?" he asked, his voice low.

"Not," Luke exhaled, cringing at the sound of his own voice, "like  _that_. Come on, Han, we don't have time for this."

"Time for what?" Han's eyes were glinting. "What am I doing?"

Luke didn't know what to say. His mind was racing, and he thought about all the times he had caught Han flirting with him. Those times weren't  _serious_. He had just been teasing him, or trying to rile Leia up, or both. Now, though? Something was different. Luke didn't think he liked it.

"Is this really what you want?" Luke asked him weakly.

Han cocked his head to the side, and he offered Luke a haughty smirk without any sort of reply. There was a moment where Luke did not breathe, his eyes wide as Han stooped lower and forced Luke's back against the wall.

 _This is scary,_  Luke thought wildly, shrinking under Han's stare.  _Why doesn't he understand that? How do I make it clear?_

He was struck silent by Han's proximity. His voice was caught in his throat.

"I don't do anything I don't want to," Han murmured, lowering his head so their foreheads brushed.

Luke tried to speak. He tried to say,  _Then don't do this._  But he couldn't. He stared vacantly into Han's face as he stooped lower and caught Luke's lips with his own. It was a quick, desperate kiss, so sharp and unyielding that Luke could hear Han inhale as he dipped Luke's head back.

Then Luke took hold of Han's face with both hands, and he forced his face back.

"No," he said. His voice was cold and firm. "Stop that."

"What?" Han said defensively.

" _This_!" Luke searched Han's face in disbelief. "I clearly was not interested, so why did you kiss me?"

"I thought you were being coy."

"I'm not Leia!" Luke frowned, his face flushed and his knees shaking. "I— I don't play coy when I like someone! You should know me better than that."

"I really don't want to talk about Leia," Han grumbled.

"Why?" Luke demanded. "Because you're in love with her? Can you use your brain for a  _second_ , Han, and realize how screwed up this is?"

Han leaned back, and he gripped Luke's wrists with a small frown. "Look, if you don't like me, you can just say it," he said. "But don't go making wild accusations—"

"Han," Luke said, holding his face and staring desperately into his eyes. "You love Leia. You are in love with her. Please don't use me as an outlet for your frustration, okay? It really hurts that you thought you could use me like that."

"I wasn't using you!" Han seemed genuinely shocked, and Luke scoffed at that. He let go of Han's face, but Han did not release his wrists. "I do like you, okay?"

"Yes, because we're very good friends," Luke told him gently. "We've just been in a life or death situation. We're  _still_  in a life or death situation. You're not thinking straight."

"Maybe I don't want to wait for Leia to notice me, huh?" Han gripped Luke's hands, and he offered a small shrug. "Like, you know what? Maybe I could do with someone stable in my life. You're stable."

"That's not what you want," Luke said. "That's not what I want. You're not listening to me!"

"Why not try it?" Han asked suddenly, his voice raising a bit. "Come on. What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid, I just don't—!" Luke winced. It was a lie, and he knew it. He was definitely afraid. "I don't like you like that."

Han inhaled deeply, and he took a step back. "Right," he muttered. "I forgot. You're gonna be hung up on that dead Jedi forever, huh?"

The silence that followed was deadly. Luke felt his words like a slap in the face, and he chewed on his tongue while he glared up at Han. It seemed to dawn on him too late what he had said, and the guilt that swamped his features was like a swooping wave.

Luke tore his hands from Han's.

"I didn't mean that," he said softly.

Luke shoved him. He planted both hands on Han's chest, and used all his strength to push him backwards. He stumbled over his feet and hit the opposite wall.

"Next time, Han," Luke spat, pushing off the wall he'd been cornered into just as Threepio came waddling into the hall, "please, punch me instead. It'll have the same effect."

"Oh, my," Threepio gasped, his head swiveling from Luke to Han. "Have I come at a bad time?"

"Nope." Luke brushed past Threepio, and he wiped his lips in disgust. "He's all yours."

* * *

Leia settled down onto a scratchy woolen blanket. The mud house was tiny and quaint, like a toy display she had seen on wealthier planets like Naboo. She observed the plain décor, noting the earthy colors and minimalistic style. It felt a bit like being on Tatooine, and a familiar pang of homesickness struck her. She tried to bury it down deep, but it only resurfaced with a vengeance.

"Thank you, Master," Leia said, taking the bowl of soup from Yoda. It was lukewarm in the wooden bowl, and when she sniffed it she had to resist wrinkling her nose. It was almost definitely soup made out of tree bark, and some other sort of root, and she slimy surface of the trunks outside were not appetizing to her at all.

"Eat, eat!" Yoda pointed his stick at her. "Eat, you must. Become strong, you will."

Unable to get past the smell, Leia stopped breathing for a moment before she spooned a bit of the soup into her mouth. Let nobody call her a coward. She swallowed hard, and when she breathed again the odd, pungent taste of moss tingled her tongue.

"So…" Leia licked her lips, and schooled her expression. She had once eaten a sand mite because Biggs had said she wouldn't. There was no way she'd express her disgust. "My father. You said he was… tall?"

"Tall, yes…" Yoda looked down. "Not always so tall, he was. Small as a child, he was."

"You really knew him that long?" Leia gasped eagerly. "Ben knew him when he was little too, but… I don't know. I guess I always thought of him as an adult."

"Powerful Jedi, he was," Yoda hummed, serving himself from the pot near the fire. "Yes… powerful Jedi…"

Leia looked down into her bowl. She spooned another helping into her mouth. The taste wasn't so bad, the second time around. She could get used to it.

"My name is Leia," she said.

"Your name I know," Yoda said, peering at her over his shoulder. "This Ben, you say. About him, I want to know."

"Um…" Leia lowered her bowl into her lap and glanced up at the ceiling. "Oh. Well, you must know him, if you knew my father. Old Ben Kenobi— ah, I mean, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Yoda turned away, his head tipping upwards as he spoke. "Patience, you taught her. Surprised, I am."

Leia straightened up as the room seemed to fade away, leaving her feeling lightheaded and dazed. She could hear and feel Ben's presence, and it made her eyes well up with tears.

"Oh, do not think her so grown up," Ben chuckled, his voice filling up the small hut like water in a canteen. "She is only patient because she understands the stakes."

"Ben!" Leia cried, jumping to her feet and bowing her head so she didn't hit it on the low ceiling. "Ben, are you… are you really here?"

Yoda glanced at her, and she tried to hide her face, realizing her lips were trembling and her tears were fresh on her cheeks.

"Much like her father, she is," Yoda observed quietly.

"That is not such an awful thing," Ben said.

"Hmm…" Yoda looked down. "The anger inside her, I sense. Contains it well, she does, but think it won't consume her, do not."

"I am perfectly calm," Leia gasped, snot causing her voice to choke out of her lips. "Just— just emotional! I thought that hearing Ben… that it was just a dream. But it wasn't."

"No." Yoda sighed, and he turned his face upwards again. "Teach her, I will. But with care, we must proceed."

"Agreed," Ben said.

Leia looked around helplessly, her eyes grazing over woolen blankets and wooden bowls, and she did not see even a glimmer of Ben's old face. She slumped, and she sat back down solemnly.

"I have learned so much already," she said softly. "I… would be honored to learn from you, Master Yoda."

Yoda turned to face her. She watched a small, tight smile appear on his face, and she found herself beaming through her tears.

"I won't let you down," she gasped, wiping her tears hastily. "I need to become a Jedi Knight, like my father. Then I can kill Darth Vader, and rebuild the Jedi Order. That's what you want, isn't it?"

There was a strange moment where a lofty, uncomfortable silence settled between them. Yoda's stare was inscrutable, and she felt it run through her, past her, focusing on a place beyond her existence and in a time where she could not be.

"Yes," Yoda said finally, his voice small and forlorn. "Rebuild the Order. This, I want. More than anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here are a few things to note:
> 
> once more i'd like to say that i don't like han's behavior in esb, and this is my response to it. leia really reciprocated han's feelings, so it ended well for them, but what if she didn't? that's why i kept that scene the way it was written in the movie, to make a point of how utterly unromantic it was. cornering someone and blindsiding them with advances is dubious at best, and i want han to face those consequences before he even has a chance to pursue leia. 
> 
> now for leia and yoda. i know lots of people were expecting her to butt heads with him immediately, considering how his first meeting with luke went, but after thinking about it for a while i decided leia would not react as harshly as luke did to this weird little gremlin messing up her camp and stealing her food. leia's compassion in addition to her righteous anger and thirst for justice is what makes her so interesting imo. never forget how patient and nurturing she was with the ewoks.
> 
> don't expect this peace to last tho, yoda's in for a trip lol


	4. the fear you know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter before i go back to school!! i kinda made up some things in this chapter, like the length of days on dagobah and some stuff about mando'a, because i used a fanmade translator. whoops.
> 
> enjoy!!

"What do you  _mean_  they haven't arrived yet?"

The tweedy rebel officer shrunk back at the scale of her tone, which bellowed loudly through the vacuous hold of the transport. He quickly readjusted his visor and glanced back down at the datapad in his hands.

"There's no record of the  _Millennium Falcon_  checking in," he said, a nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead. "It's still too soon to report them missing, but we can alert you when we have more news, miss…?"

" _Doctor_ ," she corrected, taking a brisk, deliberate step forward and forcing the poor officer to scramble back. "Doctor Aphra is my name. And you better check again, buddy!"

A large hand came down on her shoulder, and she kicked the air furiously as she was reeled back. "Don't you guys have any way to contact them? What kind of rebels are you? Get your shit together!"

"Aphra," Rex said sharply, taking hold of both her shoulders and whirling her around. "That's enough. We're on crunch time now, and we can't afford to waste another minute."

His words passed through one ear and out the other. She was still glowering at the young man who held the datapad. When he made eye contact with her, she sliced her finger over her neck, and he balked.

"Hey!" Rex jerked her away, dragging her from the center of the hold back toward where  _Arc Angel_  was parked. "Enough. Scaring officers is not going to get them back any quicker."

"Am I the only one panicking about this?" Aphra asked, her voice heightening in distress. "Hello? Earth to Clone Man! Luke, Solo,  _and_  Skywalker are all MIA. You don't think that's something to worry about?"

"If Skywalker and Prince Luke are anything like their parents," Rex said, lowered his head in an almost serene disinterest, "they will be fine."

"Ugh, you knew the Organas too?" Aphra shot Rex a look of disgust. "You're like a walking relic."

Rex exhaled heavily. He was an elderly man, bald and weathered, with an ill-fitting patchwork of stormtrooper armor strung up on his chest, arms, and legs. He had not yet yelled at Aphra, which was shocking really, considering they'd been stuck together for a whole day.

"You understand that we're doing this without Luke, don't you?" Rex asked her, his snowy beard almost completely burying his frown. "He trusted you to supply your ship and expertise—"

"Shuddap, will you?" Aphra dragged her woolen cap off her head and shook out her hair. "I said I'd do it, and I'm gonna. I'm just annoyed that they're not here yet. Do you know where they might've headed?"

"No idea." Rex stepped up onto the ramp of the  _Arc Angel,_ and he tilted his head at the only slightly irritated Shara Bey, who had less patience for Aphra's antics. She had not yet snapped, but Aphra and the droids had money on her losing it within an hour of their rescue mission's launch. "Lieutenant, did Solo or Prince Organa say anything about where they might be headed?"

Shara glanced up at them, her scarred brow quirking upwards uncertainly. "I was under the impression Prince Luke would be joining us," she said. Her eyes flickered between Aphra and Rex worriedly. "Is that not the case?"

Rex sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "It seems like the prince and Solo haven't arrived back yet."

"Neither has Leia," a new voice said from behind them. Aphra tilted her head back, and observed the young man from the base that she could really not recall the name of. He wore a ugly, bright orange flight suit as he approached them, and had a rucksack slung over his shoulder.

"Wedge," Rex said, nodding in acknowledgement to the pilot. He dropped his bag as he climbed the ramp and settled down beside Shara. "Right. Looks like it's just the four of us."

"The four of us against the Empire," Aphra said with a tight smile. "Great."

"It's just a freighter," Wedge said. "I'm not such a bad shot, and we've got a Clone Wars veteran with us. I feel like we'll be fine."

"Excuse me for not being totally convinced," Aphra said with a huff. She found herself being the subject of three pairs of expectant stares. How frustrating could these guys be? See, this was why Luke had to be around when she was interacting with rebels. The chances of someone getting hurt because she was annoyed dropped monumentally.

"Doctor," Shara said, peering forward and frowning down at her from her perch at the top of the ramp. "We don't go on these missions because we think they'll be easy. We go because it's the right thing to do."

"Okay, hold up, sweetheart," she said, holding up one hand and glancing at Shara with a dull gaze. "Let me get one thing perfectly clear to  _all_  of you before we go any further. I am not a rebel. I work for a rebel, yes, but I am not here for any sort of crusade, or to salvage the last dregs of my already disreputable conscience. I am here for profit. Y'all can risk your butts for the glory of being good all you want, but I'm just here to further along my own career and prospects."

At the top of the ramp, Shara gaped at her. Wedge merely looked down, a twinge of disappointment visible in the way his heavy black eyebrows furrowed. Rex merely stared at her, unmoved and unimpressed.

"Regardless of how you got here," Rex said, "you need to make up your mind. Are you helping us, or not?"

Aphra found herself pouting indignantly. This really wasn't fair. Where the hell was Luke?

"Ugh!" She flung her arms up in defeat. "Fine! I'll go. But I'm calling back up."

"Good," Rex said, a small smirk appearing on his weather-beaten face. "So am I."

"You're not gonna like my backup, bud."

"Can it really be worse than the murder droids?" Shara asked lightly.

Aphra stepped up onto the ramp, and she grinned broadly.

* * *

The cockpit was dark as Luke pulled his knees up to his chin and stared out into the dark cave outside. He felt like a child. Like he was sitting in his room in the palace at Aldera, waiting for his father to come in and scold him. If he let his vision blur, and he allowed his focus on reality to waver, he could almost see his wide floor-to-ceiling window. He could almost see the distant peaks of the surrounding mountains, named for ancient kings and queens. Mahail and Vasil and Salomé. Those were the mountains visible from his room.

It wasn't fair that Han had made him feel like a fool. It was hard enough that Luke knew that Han didn't really have feelings for him like that— he knew well and good that Han's sights were on Leia. The idea that he had been used did not sit well with him, and it was upsetting just to sit here and wallow in it.

 _Should I even be mad at him,_  he wondered, lowering his head into his knees.  _Maybe he really does like me, and I was just being mean._

He found himself trembling, a well of tears finding their way onto the seam of his trousers. It was troubling, to say the least, and he lifted his head and took a deep, shaky breath. He sniffled, tipping his head back in an attempt to stop the steady stream of tears. They were hot on his cheeks, and he felt like his head was filled with cotton.

A worried howl came floating into the cockpit from behind him, and Luke quickly sat up straight, wiping at his face furiously.

"H-hey, Chewie," he said. His voice was thin and broken. He lowered his head as the Wookiee sat down beside him. He couldn't help but let out a small, jerky laugh as he was yanked into a tight hug. "Chewie… Chewie, come on. I'm fine!"

He relented to being squeezed by Chewie's massive arms, and he smiled faintly as Chewie's paw began to pet the top of his head. Chewie offered a small, inquisitive bark, and Luke shook his head, sniffling a bit.

"I'm okay," he croaked. "Honest. I—"

They both jerked back at once as something hit the window of the cockpit and latched itself on tight to the glass. Luke jumped to his feet, and Chewie bent defensively over him as they backed away from the creature fearfully.

"What…?" Luke gasped, backing away from the window and pulling Chewie with him. They glanced at each other, and they both rushed from the cockpit.

Han was in the hold, slumped over some wiring. Threepio was at his back, clearly bothering him with something he did not want to hear.

"Han!" Luke gasped. Han looked up eagerly at the sound of Luke's voice. "Han, there's—!"

"Have you been crying?" Han demanded, pushing himself to his feet and striding up to Luke. Chewie yowled something sharply, and Han froze before he could reach Luke. He was clearly taken aback. "What did  _I_  do…? Ah, damn it, you  _were_  crying. Kid, look, I really didn't mean—"

"Han, we really don't have time to discuss your inability to process the word "no," okay?" Luke took a deep breath, a bit too heated to get a clear grip on things. Han gaped at him, and held up his hands in surrender. Before he could get a word in, Luke continued. "There is something outside the ship. Right now. What are we going to do?"

Chewie howled in confirmation.

"Outside. Really?" Han looked a little skeptical until there was a vicious succession of bangs on the side of the hull.

"There it is!" Threepio cried, waving anxiously. "Listen! Listen!"

Han turned away sharply, rounding the open pit and gathering up his jacket. "I'm going out there," he said firmly.

Another sharp  _bang_  collided with the ship's side, and Luke shrunk a bit at the sound. He swallowed hard, and wiped the residual snot from his nose. "Wait," he gasped, "I'm going too."

"Nope."

"Han…" Luke sighed, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Really? I have a lightsaber. I have dueled Darth Vader right in front of you. If anything,  _you_  should stay here."

Han frowned, standing for a moment in silence as he clutched an oxygen mask in his hands. Then he sighed and handed to mask off to Luke.

"Stay behind me," he said.

"Fine."

They took careful precautions before stepping out into the cave. When Han tried to adjust the strap of Luke's mask, he swatted his hand away.

"Are you gonna be like this for the whole trip?" Han grumbled as they started down the ramp. Luke brushed past him and leaned forward over the edge, gripping the metal support beam as he tipped precariously toward the ground. "C'mon. You know I didn't mean to make you mad, Your Worship."

"Why don't we start fixing our very,  _very_  shaky relationship by you not calling me that?" Luke snapped.

He could actually hear Han swallow, and he took a deep breath beside him. "Sorry," he said. "Luke, I'm serious about this. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"How…  _how_ , Han?" Luke pushed himself back onto the ramp and twisted to face him. "How did you think kissing me when I clearly didn't want you to, and then making fun of the guilt and grief I have over my  _dead friend_  wouldn't hurt my feelings?"

It was difficult to see Han's reaction from beneath the mask, but his eyes told a story of shock and overwhelming regret. "Well… when you put it like that…" he said weakly.

Luke shook his head and he stepped off the ramp. His feet sunk into the earth, and he grimaced, picking up one foot and then the other. The ground seemed to shift underfoot, and he moved slowly.

After toeing the ground a bit, he frowned and knelt down. "Should an asteroid cave really by this squishy?" Luke's fingers came back wet. "And damp?"

Han scratched his head and stepped carefully around Luke. "There's a lot of moisture in here, yeah…"

"I have a bad feeling about this," Luke said distantly, standing upright and glancing around. It was too dark to really make out his surroundings.

They glanced at each other, and an understanding fell between them. It was absolutely necessary that they get out of this cave as soon as possible. Luke pried his blaster from its holster and held it loosely with his right hand as he rounded the  _Falcon._ He let his senses go, and embraced the full extent of the Force around him. The breathing creatures that had attached themselves to the ship, the ground beneath him—

Luke's eyes snapped open, and he looked down at his feet in horror.

" _Han_!" he cried, spinning around and stumbling forward. The blaster in Han's hand went off suddenly, and Luke jerked away from the shrieking creature that fell from the cockpit's window. He gaped at its leathery, feeble corpse, and he found himself kneeling beside it dazedly. "You didn't have to kill it."

"I don't need any of your preachy bullshit right now, Luke," Han grumbled. "Mynocks like to chew on power cables. I ain't putting up with pests, not even for your pacifistic ass. You hear?"

"I'm not a pacifist, just—!" Luke scowled, and he shoved his blaster back into its holster. "I don't like killing things when it's not necessary!"

"Just go wait back inside," Han sighed heavily. "I'll get the rest of 'em."

Luke's boots sunk heavily into the organic matter beneath him. "You might want to hurry with that," he murmured, glancing around him nervously.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

A mass of bone-chilling shrieks shuddered above them, and Luke ducked close to ground, reaching out to the Force tentatively as a swarm of mynocks dipped low over them. He closed his eyes and reached out to them, feeling for them in the ebbing string of organic life around him.

"Don't shoot," Luke said, lifting his hand over his head and projecting his benevolence to the screeching, winged beasts above.

"Are you kidding me?" Han hissed, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him back toward the ramp. Luke opened his eyes just in time to watch the mynocks disperse. He smiled to himself dimly, and bowed his head so Han wouldn't see.

"We need to go," Luke said, turning to look into Han's eyes solemnly. "This thing is alive, and I don't want to end up dinner."

"This thing is  _what_?" For a moment, Han's eyes flitted confusedly around him. And then they widened as the mild horror struck him. "Aw. Shit. Okay, back in we go."

They were barely at the top of the ramp before it clicked shut. Han jogged to the front of the ship at an alarming speed, whisking his hand through his hair as he dropped into his seat and shouted back at Chewie to get the engines hot.

"Do you really think we can outrun the Empire?" Luke asked nervously.

He felt like he was being pulled in fourteen different directions, and his mind was spinning like a top on a table. There was no focus, no linchpin, and he felt like he was falling to pieces in slow motion. Like meat sloughing off the bone in a pressure cooker. He could not exist under this constant conflict of desires.

There was the Rebellion. There were his friends. There was his home, his people, which were all but memories and rubble.

And then there was Darth Vader.

Luke knew how he ranked these things. He knew what was most important, and it scared him that he might risk everything just to see the Empire crumble.

He had one more card up his sleeve, and he felt worn down enough that he might just use it.

"Listen," Han said gruffly, his shoulders slumped as Chewie hopped back into the co-pilot's chair. "We've got the element of surprise. We can make it."

It was easy to listen to Han and believe him. Luke found himself shrugging, his anxiety toiling within him as he rested his chin in his hands. "I trust you," he said.

"Oh?" Han shot a smirk over his shoulder. "Do you forgive me?"

"Hell no." Luke stared ahead of him, allowing his expression to become good and dead. He was still entirely pissed at Han, but he understood that addressing their issues had to wait until they were in some semblance of safety.

With a puff of a breath between his teeth, Luke settled into his seat and buckled himself in tight. He thought about Leia, briefly, and wondered if she had made it to the rendezvous point safely. If she was worried about him. He wondered if he could call out to her in the Force, if she might feel him there, and answer.

As the ship started forward, Chewie lifted a large, furry hand and pointed. His sharp yowl made Han wince.

"Yeah, yeah, I see it," he muttered.

"I told you it was alive," Luke said.

Han shook his head furiously. The jaws of the massive worm were closing rapidly, and the  _Falcon_  sputtered as it accelerated. Sinking into his chair, Luke tried to block out the overwhelming shockwave of fear and pain that shot through him as the slug got the brunt of the exhaust fumes and engine fire hurling down its throat.

"We're doomed!" Threepio cried.

Luke rubbed his temples, his knuckles twitching feebly as he lost hold of the Force and was hit full throttle with a numbing sense of distress. He groaned, and lowered his head between his knees.

"Hey, hey…" Han swatted his head gently. "Don't get sick on me, bud."

"Just…" Luke inhaled deeply, and he dragged his hand down his face. "Just keep going. I'm fine."

He went through the motions of the shielding techniques Ahsoka had taught him. Envisioning mountains, building brick blocks out of mud and snow and encasing himself inside. The pain became duller, like a faint headache, and he hung his head back in relief.

By the time it had fully passed, they were shooting into space. Luke found it hard to focus fully, and he pinched his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

"Shit, Luke," Han gasped, glancing over his shoulder worriedly. "What's up with you?"

"I'm fine."

"Uh…" Han shook his head furiously. "No. Obviously you're not."

"It's Force stuff, Han," Luke mumbled. "I just have a really, really bad feeling, okay? I can't explain it, especially not to you."

If Han was hurt, he did not show it. He merely threw one last, worried glance Luke's way, before focusing on navigating through the treacherous asteroid field they had narrowly escaped mere hours before.

* * *

Her fresh-faced companions all wore varying expressions of shock, dismay, and actual terror. Aphra threw her arms into the air excitedly as the hatch of the  _Arc Angel_  clicked shut, and the grizzled, matted mane of the enormous Wookiee bristled at the sight of three strangers.

"Krrsantan!" she cried, approaching the old Wookiee boldly, her arms extended. She was thankful for the short moment he allowed her to embrace him, and she patted his fat black arm as she made a sweeping gesture toward the rebels. "Remember that favor you owed me? From that time on Fest, with the— amateur— grave robbers, and then again on Corellia with those troopers? Well…"

Krrsantan eyed her with his good eye, and he barked at her irritably. His gaze swiveled toward the rebels, who did not hide the fact that they were rebels well at all. Forget Rex's obvious cloneness, and his stolen stormtrooper armor, but the two pilots? Wedge was still in his bright orange flight suit, his helmet with the grand old insignia of the whole Rebel Alliance on its side, and Shara had a look about her that declared that she was up to no good. And yes, that was something that Aphra liked.

"Yes, they're rebels," Aphra admitted slowly, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "And I know you've got a rep, which is why you can kill all the Imperials who witness you help. How does that sound?"

With a shake of Krrsantan's bulky head, he snorted softly— a retort that essentially meant, "Bad." His one good eye scanned the three faces before him once more, and then he yowled sharply.

Aphra blinked rapidly, and she tilted her head toward the rebels. "He wants to know your names," she said.

"Cody," Rex said flatly.

Wedge looked startled. His mouth opened and closed while his thick brows furrowed together uncertainly. Beside him, lounging on one of Aphra's work tables, Shara examined her fingernails.

"Kessa," she said. She looked up and met Krrsantan's eye with a smooth smirk. "Kessa Andor."

Wedge inhaled deeply, and he grimaced. "Well," he muttered, "if we're all doing it…" He shrugged one of his shoulders, and stood up. This was as brave a motion as any. "I'm Raymus Antilles."

Aphra was surprised that the boy decided to go with his real last name, but then, she also knew that Antilles was a pretty damn common last name.

"We'll, uh… stick to codenames, I think," Aphra said. "What'd Solo call the mission? Operation Freebird?"

"Caged Bird, I thought," Wedge said.

"Freebird is better." Aphra tossed her hair over her shoulder, and she looked at Rex pointedly. "How long until your back up gets here?"

"Won't be long now." Rex shot a glance up at Krrsantan. "Not sure they'll like your guy, though."

"Nobody likes my guy," Aphra laughed. "Nobody likes  _me_. I'm only here because Luke really, really wants this. And if he's still alive, then I'll be in his good graces. And if he's not…" Aphra didn't really like the thought of that. Luke Organa was not rich, not since Alderaan had been reduced to dust, but she pitied him for that. He was overwhelmingly kind to her without falling into naivety. So what if he couldn't pay her as well as her other patrons? At least he'd never tried to kill her. Plus, she had her freedom to roam around and swindle who she pleased. Just as long as she brought Luke back some information, their friendship was intact. "Well, we'll pour one out for Luke Organa, eh?"

"I'll drink to that," Wedge said grimly.

"Mistress Aphra," Triple-Zero said suddenly. He was standing by the monitor she had set up beside the cockpit. "I do hope you have another plan."

Dread, albeit a dull pang of it, crept into her heart. "Right," she said flatly. "Why?"

"Because there are  _three_  freighters on the scanner," Triple Zero said, sounding all too enthusiastically. "Could you please allow Beetee and I out in the escape pod? I'd like to watch your imminent demise from afar."

"Ugh!" Aphra groaned, slapping her forehead with the butt of her palm and whirling away. "Of course. Of  _course_  there are three of them. Can nothing be simple?"

"Does this ship have guns?" Rex asked immediately.

"Of course it has guns, who do you think you're talking to?"

Wedge and Shara were at attention, looking to Aphra expectantly. Their stares went unnoticed as she paced the floor, long wisps of her hair falling into her palms as she helplessly tried to think of a plan. Then she noticed the pair of them watching her, and she realized they were waiting for her to give them orders.

 _Her_. Ordering rebels around! What kind of backwards universe was this?

"Uh…" Aphra smoothed her hair back into a graceless lump at the top of her head. "Okay, uh, Antilles, you grab the guns. They're starboard. You really can't miss 'em. Don't fire unless I say so. A… Andor…?" Aphra grimaced. She was not going to be able to keep these fake names straight. "We need to figure out which ship Sabine Wren is on. Luckily I still have a few Imperial callsigns memorized, so we're gonna fake it till we make it. You ready to play bad?"

Shara cocked her head, and a wide smirk appeared on her face. "Always," she said, her voice smooth as butter. "But this little scheme would work better if we had an Imperial shuttle."

"The  _Arc Angel_ 's not registered as Imperial, but its predecessor, may the Force protect her sweet soul, did some work for Darth Vader. Now, I'm not entirely sure this will work, because my involvement with the good Lord was pretty underwraps, and our current relationship is— for lack of a better word— strained." Aphra chewed on the inside of her lip and tried to smile. "But we'll try whatever we can."

"Three ships," Rex said thoughtfully. "That means there are a lot more prisoners than we initially accounted for."

Aphra stared at him vacantly. "We're only here for one," she said.

"Yes," Rex agreed solemnly, "but what if we can utilize the numbers? Think about it. There are only seven men stationed on each freighter. A pilot, a co-pilot, a commanding officer, and four troopers. There are seven of us in all, if we don't count the droids." Seven, Aphra assumed, once his back up came.

"You best not," Triple-Zero said coolly.

"No, no, no, wait," Aphra said, holding up a hand. "I  _like_  this. So we cause a little mutiny? Free the prisoners, take over the ships?"

"That would require freeing all of them at once, so they don't call for back up," Shara pointed out. "We can't have a Star Destroyer show up while we're doing a rescue. That would be a disaster."

"I say we try Aphra's first plan," Wedge said. He folded his arms across his chest, and he shrugged when they all stared at him blankly. "What? We have to know where Sabine is, because that is the freighter we have to keep our attention on."

"He's right," Shara said.

"Well, then," Aphra said with a wide, knowing smirk. "You ready to act fast, lovely?"

Shara rolled her eyes. "Let's do it," she said.

Aphra and Shara broke away toward the cockpit, leaving Wedge to the guns, and Rex and Krrsantan to… whatever. Aphra wasn't sure about that part yet, but they'd figure it out. Rex's back up had yet to arrive, but by the looks of the scanner, they had to act fast.

They came up on the three Imperial freighters, and a clipped, seasoned voice demanded their clearance codes. Aphra read them off a screen carefully, her palms itching as she spoke.

Shara sat beside her, pin straight and eyes closed in her seat. Her dark brown curls settled around her head in an orderly chaos as she lowered her face and breathed in deeply.

" _Confirmed_ ," said the officer on the other line. Beside Aphra, Shara visibly relaxed, and she dragged her hand over her face to hide a smile of disbelief.

"Let me handle the rest," she said, plucking the comm from Aphra's fingers and leaning in. When she spoke again, she acquired a light, but believable Core accent. "Requesting authorization for a prisoner transfer."

As Shara released the button on the comm, Aphra turned on her, leaning in very close and hissing, "What are you doing?"

Shara met Aphra's eye, and she smirked. "Winging it," she said simply. "Get Black Krrsantan. We're going to need him."

"Uh…" Aphra winced. "He's not gonna like that."

"He'll have to deal."

On the other line, the Imperial officer spoke sharply, but uncertainly. " _We had no log of a last minute transfer, Agent."_  There was a beat of silence before they spoke again. " _However… given the nature of your clearances… we will overlook this unorthodox behavior._ "

Shara's mouth fell open. She glanced up at Aphra, who could only smile haughtily, her arms drawing back behind her head as she shrugged.

"Like I said." She settled back in her seat smugly. "Darth Vader. The guy's got some weight."

"You know once he finds out you did this, he's going to try and kill you, right?" Shara asked. Gently. Aphra was surprised by the softness of her tone. So much so, that she didn't laugh when she wanted to. Maybe Shara wouldn't wind up hating her after all.

"He's already tried to kill me," Aphra said. "Like, he threw me out of an airlock. I'm not really concerned with betraying his trust, or whatever."

Shara glanced aside with some incredulity glinting in her eyes, and she bobbed her head to the side. "Okay, then," she said. She glanced around the cockpit thoughtfully, and then tilted her face toward Aphra, studying her carefully. "You wouldn't happen to have an officer's uniform stowed away in here, would you?"

"Oh, Shara," Aphra cooed, "you know me so well, and we haven't even been on a date yet."

That caught Shara by surprise, and she blinked rapidly. "I'm married," she told Aphra slowly. "With a child."

"Shh, shh!" Aphra stuck a finger against Shara's lips, and she stood up. "He doesn't need to know."

Without waiting for a reply, Aphra turned away and began to rummage through a bag of stolen items she had left on the floor. Shara had chuckled a little in response, clearly amused by Aphra's antics.

The Imperial uniform had been tailored to fit Aphra, for various reasons, and so the boarding squad would be the two people who had the least stake in this whole mission.

"They'll be allowing us to board any minute," Shara said, a vague look of concern passing over her face before she quelled it. "Please don't cause a mess until we know which ship Sabine is on. Otherwise we'll never get her out."

"Noted," Aphra said dryly. She adjusted her cap over her slippery hair, tucking stray wisps into the edge. Then she gave a little twirl, a grin of pure delight on her lips. "Well? How do I look?"

"Lose the smirk, and then we'll be somewhere," Shara said, folding her arms across her chest. She glanced up at Krrsantan warily. "Will you be okay doing this? It's not like this is exactly your cause, and we can't pay you."

"He owes me," Aphra said, taking the powered down binders from Shara's hands. "Think of it like the barter system, but with favors. Like how my arrangement with Luke works."

Krrsantan merely growled low, sneering down at the binders as Aphra clipped them into place. They were loose and unhinged, so he could get out of them whenever he pleased.

"You're right," Aphra said. "We should hurry up."

"The freighter is coming up on us!" Wedge called from the guns.

Aphra gripped Krrsantan's coarse, furry arm, and she winked as she yanked him forward. It was right about now that she really wished that Luke could be here. His idea to board the freighter like pirates had been so fun, and his lightsaber would be really handy.

The entire ship shuddered as the freighter locked onto them, a bridge extended as their airlocks connected. Aphra inhaled deeply, and she glanced back at Rex in the hold. He held his blaster tightly in on hand, and he nodded to her.

Aphra closed her eyes, and she took a deep breath. The fact was that Luke was not here. She did not know where he was. She did not know what she was doing, or why she was doing it.

 _I can't let him down now_ , she thought, feeling a little sick.  _Not when he put so much faith in me. If I fuck this up, he'll never trust me again._

Her eyes snapped open, and she reached out with the surety of a real Imperial officer. She pressed down on the smooth, round button at the control panel in front of her, and the airlock doors slid open.

A bout of nervousness came over her as she stood at attention. She saluted, her back straight and her face stoic. Her fingers twitched, anxiety creeping over her brain and forcing her to tremble in uncertainty.  _Is this right?_  She thought, meeting the cold stare of the officer from the Imperial freighter.  _Am I doing this right? Damn it, I never stick around Imps long enough to check._

"Lieutenant," the officer greeted after a brisk glance at the plaque on her breast. "I am Lieutenant Commander Primm. You must sign off on the prisoner transfer."

Aphra blinked rapidly as a datapad was shoved into her hands, and she tried to catch her breath as she went through the aliases that she had used in the past. If she signed a fake name, would the datapad know? Did they have records? Or was it just procedure?

Knowing she had no time to trouble herself over it, she took the stylus gingerly in her fingers, and signed off,  _Lona Rur._  Anyone who knew her well enough would know it was her, but she doubted the Imperials could guess.

Primm took the datapad back with a simple glance at her name, and he tucked it beneath his arm neatly. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Rur," he said. "You will be handsomely rewarded, I am sure, for the capture of the Wookiee warrior… Chewbacca."

It was hard to keep a straight face at that. Krrsantan had abandoned his golden, decorative breastplate and bowcaster for this. There was nothing that could be done for the scar on his eye, but there was nothing they could do about the color of his fur either. They just had to hope the Empire didn't care to describe the details of a mere Wookiee's appearance.

Krrsantan let out a low roar. In the loosest translation of Shyriiwook she could manage, she said, "He's pretty bent on killing you, sir. Got a nasty tongue on him, too."

Suddenly Primm looked all too curious, and he watched with a frown. "You speak this beast's language?" he asked, his eyes flickering up to Krrsantan in disgust. "How primitive."

"I speak quite a few languages," Aphra said calmly. "I was educated at the University of Bar'leth."

As a professional liar, Aphra knew exactly when her prey took the bait. The pensive look that crossed Primm's face suggested that she had nabbed him, hook, line, and sinker. So she smiled up at him innocently as he stroked his chin.

"Bar'leth, you say…" he murmured. "And… you studied many languages there?"

"I was a galactic linguistics major before dropping out to join the navy, sir," Aphra said, her eyes big and curious. "Why do you ask? Do you need a translator?"

"Can you translate Mando'a?" Primm asked tentatively.

"Sure," Aphra said. Then, realizing she sounded far too casual, she cleared her throat, and slowed her voice down. "I mean, of course, sir. Mandalorian linguistics had an entire department to itself at Bar'leth."

"Excellent," Primm said, turning on his heel. "We can drop off the Wookiee at a cell block on the way."

"On… the way?" Aphra tilted her head. "On the way where?"

"It's best not to ask questions, Lieutenant."

It was all Aphra could do  _not_  to put a blaster bolt through the man's spine. She smiled vapidly, and she nodded as she started forward and followed him through the freighter's door.

"Oh, trooper," Aphra gasped at the accompanying guard, pointing back toward her ship. "I have a package in there that needs constant surveillance. Could you…?"

The stormtrooper turned to look at Primm expectantly, clearly not trusting Aphra to give him orders. Primm merely sighed and nodded.

"I expect the package is for…" Primm cleared his throat, his eyes darting up to Krrsantan. "You know."

"Lord Vader?" Aphra smiled tightly. "You  _are_  a smart man, Lieutenant Commander Primm."

"Yes, well…" The stroke to his ego had done wonders to how the man spoke to her, his head lowering with the sort of confidentiality of old friends. "With those codes, one must assume. Through here."

As far as Imperial ships went, the freighter was lackluster. All freighters tended to be a bit bulky and aesthetically uncoordinated when it came down to it, but the Empire's freighters were so plain and rigid, it felt like she was walking through a box.

"Ah, here we are," Primm said, stopping before a heavy door. He gestured at it smoothly. "A bit small, I imagine, for a Wookiee. However, we will be on our way to the Citadel soon enough."

With a hard swallow, she smiled up at Primm. The only reason he was still alive was because he was leading her right to Sabine Wren. "Of course," she said, taking hold of Krrsantan's arm. He was tense, his one eye glinting madly as he glared down at Primm. She knew.

They were not going to get him into that cell. Not without a fight. And she knew better than to get on the wrong side of Black Krrsantan.

"Where  _are_  we going," she wondered aloud. "I cannot stay for long. Urgent business. That package must be delivered."

"Ah." Primm nodded. "I see. Well, you needn't fret. Only a bit longer down this hall."

Before Primm could open the door of the cell, Krrsantan broke free of his loosened binders with a frightening roar, his large body doubling over as spittle and phlegm came flying from between his thick incisors. He whacked Aphra in the stomach, hard enough to send her crashing to the floor, and she covered her head with her hands as Krrsantan tore her holster from her belt, tearing the leather right in half.

"After him!" Primm cried, pointing a newly arrived trooper in the direction of the fleeing Krrsantan. Aphra peeked out between her fingers and watched him disappear around a corner, sending a stray shot down the hall blindly. It hit the ceiling. "I want him tranquilized and thrown in a cell!"

The stormtrooper saluted, and went off after Krrsantan. Aphra sat in a rather disgruntled heap, her cap crooked and her body bent over itself fearfully. Primm knelt down beside her and grasped her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his pale eyes flickering over her face and arms quickly, as though assessing for damages. "That beast will not get far."

Aphra nodded mutely, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. She tried to look more frazzled, tried to appear helpless and skittish like a frightened little girl.

"Perhaps we can wait," Primm mused, glancing back down the hall where Krrsantan had disappeared. "Having a Wookiee running loose could prove dangerous."

"No!" Aphra gasped. She pulled herself together hastily, dragging back stray wisps of black hair from her face and tucking them behind her ears. "Lieutenant Commander, sir, I must insist. I can be an asset only so long as I am on this freighter, and I do not have the time to— to  _dally_  around here, when Lord Vader is expecting his package in six standard hours. I can hardly afford to wait."

Primm's expression flashed in a sudden understanding, and he patted her shoulder in awkward sympathy. "I see," he said. He turned forward, and began walking once more. "Well then. Come with me."

Aphra closed her eyes and exhaled sharply when he was not looking. Sweat was gathering at the hem of her cap, causing baby hairs to stick to her skin, and curl around the edge of the gray fabric. The tight, high collar of her uniform was constricting and hot. She felt like she was suffocating.

 _Just a little bit longer,_ she thought.  _Maybe Rex's back up is here, and I can kill this guy._

They stopped before a door similar to the one Krrsantan had almost been forced into. Chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek, Aphra glanced at the Lieutenant Commander as he lifted an ID cylinder from the pocket of his uniform, and used it as a key. He turned it once, and with a satisfying  _click_  the door slid open.

Inside the shallow cell, sitting on the barren gray floor, a petite young woman looked up. She had a naturally warm hue to her skin that was clearly waned by lack of exposure to real sunlight. Her face was round, like Aphra's, and her eyes were large and spread apart, her irises sporting a delicate brown color that reminded Aphra of soft-fleshed nuts. She had an unkempt head of hair in a myriad of hues. It reached her chin, the ends dipped in a pure metallic gold dye, which bled into a starkly contrasting faded gray hue. The metallic glint to the dye was gone, but the color remained vibrant against her olive-toned skin. The roots of her hair were dark, almost as dark as Aphra's, and the lackluster threads of silver were shot through with small streaks of brown.

"Lieutenant," Primm said coolly, "meet Sabine Wren, daughter of Countess Ursa Wren of Mandalore. She refuses to speak Basic to any interrogators, even under duress. Perhaps her tongue will loosen for Mando'a?"

There was a sharp quality to Sabine Wren's gaze that suggested that no amount of torture, no threat, no amount of small kindness would cause her to break and reveal what she knew. She raised her wide brown eyes to Aphra's face, and glared up at her defiantly.

 _This will be fun,_  she thought, smiling to herself as she stepped into the cell.

It was as if Aphra's footsteps were the steps of a giantess. Sabine skittered back into a corner, her jaw set in determination. Aphra stared at her, and she crouched down at a safe distance.

" _Su cuy'gar, ogir,_ " she said softly, dragging her fingers through the air in a small wave. Sabine's eyes were glued to her face, predatory and hard. " _Vaabir gar_ … uh… want…" Aphra winced. She was not a linguistics major, and her Mandalorian was pretty damn shoddy considering she had learned it from a bounty hunter from Kalevala who had a smooth, baroque voice and liked to sing Mandalorian drinking tunes to herself. "— _brokar_  get  _dayn cuyir olar_?"

Sabine's eyebrows turned together uncertainly. Her eyes flashed warily toward Primm, and she sat up a little straighter.

" _Tion'ad gar_?" she asked sharply. Her voice had a fascinating cadence to it, clipped and nettled like she was gargling ice chips. Aphra blinked rapidly, turning a translation over in her head. She remembered suddenly that Mando'a sometimes completely neglected helping verbs. So this shortened "who you" was as good as a "who are you" as she was going to get.

Aphra put on her best smile, and she placed her hand on her chest, making a show of her trustworthiness for Primm. " _Ni'm ti te_ …" Aphra looked away sharply, moving her lips soundlessly over the word  _rebel_ , realizing there was no direct translation that she could properly conceive. " _Tsad._  The  _Tsad._ "

The Alliance. She was saying that she was with the Alliance.

Which, so far, was not a lie. Weird, huh?

Sabine pressed her lips together, her gaze flickering from Aphra's face to her feet. She leaned forward and tilted her head. " _Tion vaabir vi vaabir ti te aran_?"

This was a complicated sentence, more complicated than she was used to, and she had to take a moment to process it.  _What do we do with the guard?_  Aphra smirked at that, and she stood up smoothly, allowing her chin to tip upwards in some kind of play at authority. She offered out her hand.

" _Shi geroya_ ," she said, pausing because she did not know what word should come after. She decided "just play" was fine, and she would understand what she meant.

Sabine eyed Aphra extended hand suspiciously. Then, with a meager shrug, she reached out and took it. Aphra dragged her to her feet and turned to face Primm with a bright grin.

"She is willing to work with us," she said.

Primm did not look convinced. His pale eyes narrowed at Aphra's face. "What did you say to her?" he asked. "Six months we have been trying to crack this girl, and you do it in three minutes?"

"I am a professional, Lieutenant Commander," she said simply. "I merely told her that we have her mother in custody, and if she did not do what we said, we'd execute her."

Primm's mouth fell open. Aphra felt Sabine stiffen beside her, but otherwise she remained calm. She probably knew what undercover missions were like. She looked down at her feet, and kept her mouth shut.

"Very good, Lieutenant," Primm said, nodding to her sagely. "I will show the prisoner to the interrogation room. You are free to leave."

"Thank you, sir."

Aphra took a step out into the hall behind Primm. She smiled wistfully as she slipped her cap from her head and kicked the back of Primm's knees, easily maneuvering her arm around his head as he went down and cutting off his shout of pain by stuffing her hat into his mouth. His hand shot for his blaster in a heartbeat, but to Aphra's surprise, Sabine darted forward and snatched his hand, bending it up and back with an expert flick. There was a short moment where all they could hear was his muffled scream through the fabric of the Imperial cap before Aphra slipped his pistol from his holster and shot him in the head.

Beside her, Sabine Wren stared with an open mouth and wide eyes.

"You did not have to kill him," she said, her Basic just as clipped and raspy as her Mando'a.

Aphra whirled on her, cocking her head to the side as she blew an unnecessary wisp of dark hair out of her eyes. "You rebels are all so naïve," she said, rolling her eyes. " _Yes_. I had to kill him. Do you want out of here or not?"

"I thought you were a rebel too!"

"I said I was  _with_  the Alliance, not part of it," Aphra huffed, stepping over Primm's wasted corpse and glancing around the empty corridor hastily.

"It's not my fault your Mando'a sucks!" Sabine shook her head furiously, and she took a deep breath. "Whatever. Let's just get out of here."

"That I can agree with." Aphra stooped down and pried Primm's cylinder from his dead fingers. She tossed it into the air and caught it with a small grin. "Okay… now we're talking."

"What are you going to do with that?" Sabine asked warily.

"Honey," Aphra said, striding forward to the nearest cell door and sticking the cylinder into the lock. "What am I  _not_  gonna do with this?"

For a brief moment, Sabine looked frightened. And then her eyes lit up, and she held out her hand.

"Give me that," she said. "You cover me. Okay?"

Aphra studied Sabine curiously as the door slid open. Then with a shrug, she handed over the cylinder. Sabine wasted no time in stepping up to the open cell and calling in, "Hey, you want to get out of here?"

And just like that, they had a prison break.

* * *

The rotations of Dagobah were something of a mystery. The sun came, and it left, and yet the mist remained. It was difficult to tell how long she had been here, because of the short days and long nights, but it felt like nearly a week. It was likely this was not reflected in Galactic Standard Time, but her body was beginning to adjust to the odd hours.

Soft bark bent under her weight as she leapt from an uneven perch to a slackened tree branch. Her arms were bare, and her hands were wrapped with sullied cloth bandages. A layer of grime covered her sweaty, glistening skin, and thin strands of her hair sat slick and sticky on her temple and neck.

"I know of the Dark Side, Master," Leia said through gritted teeth, flipping onto the bouncing tree branch and lowering herself into a crouch. She surveyed the land around her, fog skittering over the marsh to the east, while darkness covered the gnarled roots and treacherous pass to the west. Forward was clear, scattered with protruding rocks and feathery moss. "You don't need to warn me. I know already."

The bundle of green alien philosophy strapped to her back wriggled as a whispery chuckle floated around her head.

"Know, do you?" Yoda laughed. "Know all, I see. The Master you are. Here for, what are you?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Leia sighed, dropping one leg and swinging it idly from the branch. "It's just that this is stuff Ben already drilled into my head. For years. Like, he wouldn't even begin to teach me before I understood how toxic my anger could be."

"And yet," Yoda hummed, "let it go, you have not."

"I'm not angry!" Leia cried defensively. "I've done everything you've told me to without complaint. Why do you say that?"

"Ho, ho!" Yoda tapped her shoulder. "Defensive and combative, you are. Strong in the Force, but unwilling to let it aid you. If left alone, tools for the Dark Side your strengths may become."

"You know," Leia grumbled, rising to her feet and balancing precariously on the edge of the branch, "Ben used to say that too. But I do open myself to the Force, and I do rein in my anger, and I do what is right whenever I can! So what is the problem?"

"Your arrogance, the problem lies," said Yoda quietly as Leia took a free jump off the edge of the branch. She kicked off the trunk of the tree below, and managed to catch onto a loose vine. Her legs curled around it as she slid through the air and flipped easily onto the ground. "Believe you are invulnerable, you do. Infallible. Believe me, you must, that even the good and mighty fall."

"I won't!" Leia gasped, turning to glance at his small head on her shoulder. He watched her through heavily lidded eyes, and hummed low. "You're wrong, you know. I don't think I'm invulnerable. But I don't believe I'd ever fall for the Dark Side's tricks!"

A small yowl left her lips as Yoda knocked his small fist against the side of her head. "Arrogance!" he tutted. "Careless pride, destroy you it will. Falling to the Dark Side, like a pit fall it is. Step like you do. Go on."

Step? Leia looked down at the damp, uneven floor of this swampy world. She sighed and moved forward, watching her boots sink slightly into the soft ground.

"Sure and steady you are. Feel, do you, the Force around you?"

"Yes." Leia felt certain of that. This planet had her practically drinking the Force, she was so attuned to the constant thrum of it against her skin and against her heart.

With a startled shout, her foot snagged over a small boulder that had appeared suddenly before her. She went crashing down, skidding onto her hands and knees and hissing as her balance teetered, and she was flung onto her side.

"Damn it," she muttered, flicking the mud from her fingers and grimacing at the brown stains on her bandages.

"Control that fall, could you?" Yoda asked almost haughtily from her back. "Believe, you did, that you would not fall. Cold, the ground is, and wet. Learn, have you?"

Leia pushed herself up to her knees and wiped her hands on the nearest rock. "You put that rock there on purpose," she accused him, lifting herself up and taking a deep breath. "Falling to the Dark Side is a  _choice_. I know myself better than that, Master Yoda."

"A  _seduction_ , it is, young one," Yoda warned her. "Fall, you will, if not smart and careful. Like Obi-Wan's apprentice."

With a small, shaky breath, she rested the back of her hand against her forehead and looked up at the canopy of trees above her. It wasn't that she and Yoda had been fighting frequently, it was just that they rarely saw eye to eye. Yoda was convinced that she had some deep anger issues that she was barely controlling, while Leia merely wanted him to fill in the gaps in Ben's teachings, not waste her time with warnings she had gotten a thousand times on Tatooine.

"But I'm not Vader," Leia said, sliding her hand down her nose and taking a deep breath. "He betrayed Ben and my father. He was weak, and selfish, and I know I can be better. I have to be."

"If stands on your shoulders, the future of the Jedi Order does," Yoda said, gripping her shoulders and sighing, "learn humility, you must."

She didn’t say what was in her heart, that she was scared of the Order she would one day create. The specificity of her destiny made it so difficult to think clearly sometimes. Yes, a part of her had largely accepted that she had to create a new Jedi Order. It was for the best. But if Yoda knew her doubts, would his criticisms only be magnified?

Leia shook her head furiously, and she unhooked the holster strapped to her chest. Yoda slid down her back, and she whirled around to face him.

"Look at me," she said sharply, her arms folding across her chest. "I have been using the Force for as long as I can remember, whether I was aware of it or not. I have fought Darth Vader. I have done my best to preserve the memory of the Jedi, to cultivate what I can so that when the Empire falls, people can remember what the Jedi once were. I've fought in so many battles, I can't even count them all. I blew up the Death Star, and killed  _thousands_  of people! I have to live with that, every single day of my life, and I struggle with my lot in life just like everyone else, but you think I'm not humble enough to be a Jedi?" She glared down at him, watching his unimpressed little face coldly. "Maybe Ben was wrong. Maybe you aren't the Master for me."

Yoda's ears twitched. He bowed his head low, and he said, "When nearly nine hundred years old you are, then you may lecture me."

"I'm not trying to invalidate what you've been through," she gasped. "I'm just telling you that I understand! I don't need to be told a hundred times that anger leads to the Dark Side! I know that."

"Fight it, you do," Yoda murmured. "Fight me, you do, on this and that, on things that are simple. Trust me, you do not."

"You don't trust  _me_!" Leia cried. "You obviously have had an issue with me since the moment I got here. I've been trying to understand, but I just can't!"

Leia knew she wasn’t the most patient person, but she had really, _really_ tried her best with Yoda. Kindness, she knew, was a rarity on sparsely populated planets, and it was hardly fair of her to be cruel to an old Jedi who was almost certainly senile. And maybe she was growing increasingly bitter about his behavior, but no one could say she didn’t try!

With a shake of his head, Yoda closed his eyes. It was like shouting at a wall, an incredibly old, incredibly stubborn wall. Leia knew she had no chance debating philosophy or rhetoric with someone as old and wise as Yoda. She would merely trip herself into a corner. As she had, quite literally, by trying to get out of yet another lecture about the Dark Side.

"All you've done since I got here is make me do strange exercises while you lecture me about the dangers of the Dark Side," Leia said softly, kneeling down before Yoda and searching his face earnestly. "I know the danger, Master. I know that Ben's old apprentice failed him. That your apprentice failed you. But I'm not going down that path."

"Foolish, you are," Yoda said, his eyes cracking open, "to think you control your fate."

"Yes, yes," Leia sighed, falling backwards into a sitting position once her feet began to cramp. "The Force controls my destiny, and I must accept that— but, Master, I don't accept that I will Fall. That is not me. That's not who I am."

"So sure are you," Yoda said, tapping at the air with one wizened finger, "that who you are, you know?"

Leia inhaled deeply. The air around her was thick and acrid, hot in a way that someone from Tatooine could never really fathom until they felt it. When she breathed, she breathed in air that was so wet she could taste the swampy precipitation.

"I am Leia Skywalker," she said, her voice low like the suns bleeding the sky crimson at the edge of the horizon line. "I am a Jedi. I am the daughter of a Jedi. No matter the cost, no matter the outcome, no matter the sky or wind or sand, I will fight to ensure that tomorrow's world is a better one. So that the people who come after me can live in peace."

"And peace there will never be," said Yoda, "if you let the Dark Side win."

"I would never let that happen."

"Things, you say, but listen you do not." Yoda shook his head. "Smart, you are. Stubborn. Think, you do, that the first Jedi are you to proclaim these things? No. Hm, hm." Yoda sat down on a large rock, shifting idly as he got comfortable. "So many, there were, who tried and failed before you. So many, there were, who gave their lives in pursuit of this better tomorrow. Ha!" Yoda pointed at her, his yellowed claw wavering at the center of her face. "Know your history, young one. Know your flaws."

Leia shook her head in disbelief. "My flaws…" she muttered, rolling her shoulders back and searching the canopy of vines and the misty forest floor with a quick, level gaze. "Do you want a list, Master? Of all the mistakes I've made? I don't see how it will be beneficial to my training, but if I must, I acquiesce."

"Know your flaws, I do," Yoda hummed. "Keep them in mind, you must. Work with yourself, hmm? Unravel the burdens. Weight, you carry, yes. In your heart. In your mind. Do not be bogged down by these things."

"I'm not," Leia said defensively.

"Ah, ah!" Yoda tilted his head. "There. My point, that is. Fight me always, like an animal provoked."

"I didn't fight you when we met," Leia pointed out.

"Sweet you are," Yoda observed, "at first. Much beneath the surface, there is. Much that is unseen. Hardness. Coldness. Bitterness. Work with these things, you must. Define you not, do they."

With a small click of her jaw, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. It was hard to process what he was saying. He was even more cryptic than Ben was, which was saying a lot. Oh, how she missed Ben! She regretted everything bad she'd ever said about his odd little turns of phrase, his knowing smile and cache of half-truths. She would take his soft words of empty wisdom over these puzzles any day.

Something within her shuddered, ice gathering on her spinal column as she stood and basked in the hazy forest. Swaying unsteadily, she lifted her head to her head, feeling as though there was something pulling at her hair. As though perhaps she had walked through a cobweb, and was trailing invisible fibers. A shadow was creeping around her eyes, and she breathed deeply, her heartbeat quickening as her eyes slid around her uncertainly.

"Feel it, do you?"

Leia's feet scraped the soft ground in a semi-circle, the ends of the hair on her arms standing on end. She swallowed hard. "What…?" She had to take a deep breath, trying to compose herself so the little gremlin didn't see her fear. "What is that? I don't think I've felt anything like it."

Yoda sat patiently. His eyes opened, and they closed. He said nothing that might indicate the sudden dread she felt was natural, that she was meant to feel it.

"It's…" A sharp shiver shot through her, possessing her body like a ghost, and she inhaled and exhaled shakily. Her chest rose and fell uneasily, and she trudged forward, unwinding her shirt from around her waist and shrugging it over her stained white tanktop. The collar stuck up against her jaw as she buckled, peering toward a shadowy alcove off the beaten path. "Master, it's cold as death out here. Is that normal?"

But Yoda did not answer. Her feet moved instinctively forward, dragging across the forest floor as she edged closed to the blackened, gnarled roots of a dead tree. She ducked beneath a large, elaborate web, bundling herself in the thin beige cotton of her Alliance issued shirt. She exhaled, and her breath came out in a shivering mist.

"Master?" Leia looked back, but the path behind her was completely shrouded in shadows. She stood completely frozen, fear licking at her heart and lapping at her heel. She straightened up, looked ahead, and moved forward.

This was a test. She knew it. But she felt like she had just stepped into a tomb, and every breath she took was labored and visible. The ground was uneven, and there were unseen fibers hanging from the low ceiling. She could only grimace and keep going.

Unhooking her lightsaber from her belt, she paused to click it on. The eerie cave was suddenly bathed in a cool light, blue splashing onto the roots and the stones that littered the floor, reflecting off the moisture that bathed the slimy walls. She lifted the light above her head, her eyes darting all around her uncertainly.

"You are in the wrong place, child."

Leia whirled around, lowering herself into a defensive position with both hands clutching her lightsaber. The pale blue light trickled towards the end of the cave, which appeared endless in her limited vision. She found herself face to face with an elderly human, his hair and beard neatly trimmed and a shockingly snowy white. He wore a cloak across one shoulder, allowing the rich gray fabric to bundle along his neck, similarly to how Luke often styled himself. There was an air of aristocracy about him, a maddening sense of authority that made Leia's knees shake.

His voice was deep and commanding, easy and smooth, and Leia was half mesmerized as he spoke again.

"Did your father never tell you not to play with swords?" Long, wizened fingers fell together as he crossed his arms behind his back and strode casually alongside her.

"No," Leia said, gritting her teeth as the man's dark eyes slid down to her, and flashed a sickening yellow. "I never knew my father."

"Well," said the man, lifting his chin high. "I did."

Leia did not lower her lightsaber, but she found herself reeling back. "What?" She squinted up at the man suspiciously. "Really?"  _But this guy isn't real,_  she thought frantically.  _This is just a vision. Master Yoda said that this planet is rich in the Force, didn't he? So none of this is real._

"Anakin Skywalker," the man spat, a venomous bite to his words. Leia felt every syllable, and she could feel them fall upon her face like ice chips. They melted in the wayward softness of his voice. "The Hero With No Fear. We tell ourselves lies to comfort us, when the night is dark, and the demons come. Tell me, child, do you fear the dark?"

"No," she said, without pause, without even taking a breath.

The man stopped. His back was to her, and she edged closer so the light could spill across his broad shoulders. He was old enough to be her grandfather. Perhaps even her great-grandfather.

She gasped as a red lightsaber hissed into life, sliding elegantly through the air and clipping the edge of her blade. It was difficult to count the blows, as Ben had taught her, because every step the man took was a small flick of his wrist, and a small flick of his wrist meant his blade had met hers. She backed away rapidly, her eyes darting from his blade to his feet, which moved too rapidly to keep up. He was doing this one handed, one arm tucked neatly behind his back as he circled her, predatory and sure, his form impeccable and his blade a blur.

It did not arc, and it did not sweep, but it slid through every one of her defenses and clipped against her ear. She heard it thrumming, and she felt it burn.

She was kicked into a wall, her back sliding uncomfortably against the slick stone, and her eyes widened as the man towered over her. It had been difficult to grasp how tall he was, in the half-light, but now she saw him up close and her fear completely possessed her. She came up to his chest, barely, and she leaned her head back as he gripped her lightsaber as well as his own, and crossed them over her neck.

"Lesson one," he said, his voice neat and severe, like a reprimanding school teacher. "If you cannot win a fight, do not engage at all."

" _You_  attacked  _me_ ," she gasped. The blades were uncomfortably close to her neck, and her ear still stung from where he had nicked her.

"And you remained here rather than fleeing." The man tilted his head. "Your fear betrays you, child. Child of my child of my child. Child of my child of my child of my child. Look. See. I am here. Am I not?"

Leia blinked rapidly. She opened her mouth, but she did not know what to say. She could really, truly feel the heat of her lighsaber and his. It frightened her.

"Do you succumb to your fear?" the man asked. His voice had no volume levels. No whisper, no shout, merely one even burst of delicate tones.

"No…" Leia whispered.

"Perhaps," the man said, "you should."

Leia looked up at him, and for a brief moment his face morphed, and a young man stood before her, red and blue light casting odd hues along his smooth skin, reflecting wildly in his wet blue eyes. His head lifted and fell, his lips parted deliriously. She stared at him in horror and confusion, and found herself lost in the waves of his hair, like dunes of sand on the horizon.

It all changed with a stinging breath, her heart tearing from her chest and landing somewhere far away. She stood tall, she stood mighty, she stood victorious, and yet she stood with fear dangling knives over her head with cobweb strings. Her hands shook terribly, and tears glimmered in her eyes as she looked down at the two lightsabers in her hands. She did not know how she had gotten to be in this position, but the old man knelt before her, his head leaned back, his eyes reflecting all the horror and fear and delirium she felt.

"Your fear consumes you," he uttered, his voice drilling through her brain. "Hero With No Fear? There is no such thing."

Leia's grip tightened on the lightsabers, and she watched her extended arms flick apart. The lightsabers clicked against one another in a spitting hum, and then they separated. The man's head rolled off his shoulders, and his body slumped forward.

Neither hit the ground.

Leia stood panting heavily in the darkness of the cave. Alone. She had her one lightsaber, blue as the Tatooine sky, and it was sticking to her damp, bandaged palm. She leaned heavily against the cave wall, her bare fingers sliding against the damp rock, and her soiled bandages picking up grime as she doubled over and tried to catch her breath.

"I'm…" Tears prickled at Leia's eyes, her chest tight and heavy, like she had just run halfway across the planet and her heart was about to burst. She pushed herself off the cave wall, and she wound around in a small, unsteady circle. Her hands were clenched into fists as she searched her surroundings helplessly. "I'm not afraid!"

Her words echoed off the shimmering cave walls, and a phantom wind whistled from deep within it, farther down, farther down still. The webs and vines above her shivered. The pebbles under foot skittered madly, unable to withstand the blow.

Leia could only grimace, tears in her eyes, and she opened her arms and screamed into the depths of the darkness.

"I AM NOT AFRAID!"

The cave breathed and sighed, her words fluttering back to her in faint whispers.  _I am… I am… I am…_  It was garbled and thin. Her voice was torn apart and reassembled by rocks and webs and vines.  _Afraid… afraid… afraid…_

She screamed again, this time without a word, letting out her frustration in a great burst of sound that tore from her mouth and whipped like a storm across the shivering cave walls. Anger rose up inside her, irritation and frustration and bitter pride. She screamed until her throat was raw, and her voice was hoarse, and she had no voice left to scream with.

She felt him before she saw him, like always, but it was different in a way that she could not properly comprehend. He was here, he was not here. She held onto her lightsaber tightly as the haunting rasp of Vader's respirator filled the cave, and his red lightsaber spilt along the walls and the floor and her face. He appeared through the fog, skittering smoke with the flap of his cape, and Leia stepped back as he charged her.

"No," she gasped, blocking the first hit with a wince. "No, I won't lose. I am not afraid of you!"

She kicked him in the chest as hard as she could, dodging a sweeping blow and gripped her saber with both hands. When he stumbled back, she lunged, her arms working with all her muscle to slice her blade through his neck.

Like the old man, Vader's head was lobbed off his shoulders. His body slumped, and collapsed onto the cave floor. His head, helmet and all, came rolling to a stop at her feet.

Leia shook, her lips trembling as she took a step back. The plasteel of the helmet began to melt away, and a lifeless face met her grimly. She held her lightsaber closer, and felt the horror of what she had done clearly.

Within the busted, peeling folds of Darth Vader's mask, her own round face sat. She looked into her glassy brown eyes, at her parted, chapped lips, at her long hair pooling out of the crumbling black façade. It watched her, dead and gone, and not even the cool blue tone of her lightsaber could breath life back into it.

With a shaky breath, Leia stood upright. She whisked her hair back from her forehead, swiping a bit of dirt onto her forehead, and she nodded. Her heartbeat had not returned to normal as she turned away from her own severed head.

She began to walk from where she came. She extinguished her lightsaber, and plunged herself into total darkness. Yet her feet kept moving. Yet her head remained high.

The feeling slowly came back to her fingers. When she breathed, the air did not knife through her lungs. She emerged from the cave, pushing back vines and webs, inhaling the deep, earthy scent of Dagobah's swampy air.

Leia dropped her lightsaber into the damp soil, and then fell to her knees. She hung her head back, and she closed her eyes.


	5. learn and let go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i'm back at school so i might accidentally catch up to where i've written. i've been too busy to write anything substantial in the last few days, but hopefully with the weekend coming i can bang out the rest of the chapter i'm writing.
> 
> there are a few ocs in this chapter, they're not that important. i just needed to fill the empty space.

"Could you please tell me your name now?" Sabine asked, after a rather impressive display of hand-to-hand combat. Aphra gaped at the trooper on the floor, who had lasted all of ten seconds against Sabine Wren's powerful legs.

"Did I not tell you that?" Aphra smoothed her long black hair back, ignoring the odd looks the other prisoners shot her. "I'm Doctor Aphra."

"Never heard of you."

"Honey, I don't bleed to be heard of," she scoffed, tossing the hair she'd been stroking over her shoulder. "I just go where the profits lead me."

"Oh, really?" Sabine smirked, leveraging the large blaster she had plucked from the stormtrooper's limp fingers onto her shoulder. "And that's why you're on an obscure rebel rescue mission, Doctor? For the profit?"

"Eh…" Aphra winced, and she shimmied her hand through the air in a "so-so" motion. "It's complicated."

"I'm sure."

There were six prisoners in all, including Sabine. There was a man nearing middle age who had pretty much tried to take over, much to Aphra's irritation.

"We need to get to the cockpit," he said, not for the first time. "Once we do that—"

"Listen, buddy— what was your name again?"

"Lux."

"Lux," Aphra said, rolling her eyes, "I really don't know why you're telling me how to run my rescue mission. So you can either shut up, or stay behind."

"I'm telling you because I have more experience than you with these sorts of things," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh? Yeah? Really?" Aphra smiled at him venomously. "That's fascinating, I almost wish you'd tell me more, but I don't actually care."

"Can you two quit bickering?" Sabine asked flatly. She pointed down the corridor of the freighter, her eyebrow arched. "We really gotta go."

Aphra sighed. "Right…" She eyed Lux with clear disdain. "You breathe another word, I'm throwing you out the airlock."

"That seems excessive," a small Pantoran girl piped up. Aphra leaned back and took a good look around her. The ages of the prisoners varied, ranging from probably around fifteen, given the girl's round, untroubled face, to early forties, with Lux and the other human man. There was a Twi'lek boy around Sabine's age who had not spoken, and Aphra suspected he did not speak Basic. Or maybe he did, and he was just good at hiding it. The last one was a human woman around Aphra's age, with smooth, lily-white face and long red hair.

"Nothing is too excessive in a life or death situation, kiddo," Aphra said, bopping the small girl on her blue nose. "Okay… forward, then."

They moved quickly through the halls, taking each corridor warily, all eyes sweeping their surroundings before continuing.

"I'd feel better with a gun," Lux said miserably.

"Didn't the lady say quiet, Bonteri?" the blonde human asked. Aphra was surprised to hear his voice. He had not said a word upon being sprung, and instead looked around him with apprehension. He'd surveyed his environment, and decided to stick alongside Sabine and Aphra.

"How come all of you have such fancy accents?" Aphra wondered aloud.

"Uh, I don't," Sabine said. "Neither does he." She jerked her thumb back at the mute Twi'lek.

"Why don't you have a Mandalorian accent?" Aphra asked her curiously.

Sabine pressed her lips together thinly as they stopped to peer around a corner. "You've been around the galaxy a few times, right?" Sabine glanced at her, and she smirked. "You're smart. Figure it out."

"You're Mandalorian?" The blonde man asked, sounding shocked and alarmed. Sabine shot a glare at him over her shoulder. As though it were obvious.

"Go, go!" Aphra gasped, ushering Sabine into the hall. They shuffled through the narrow corridor, and found themselves standing just before the cockpit. Aphra grinned to herself, and she burst inside, watching the pilot gasp as he locked eyes with her.

Before he could reach for his comm, Aphra lifted her blaster and shot him twice. The first shot hit his shoulder, and the second collided with his skull.

"Cool," she said, striding up to the pilot's chair and shoving the corpse off it. "Bullseye."

"Aphra," Sabine snapped.

Aphra turned as she dropped into the pilot's chair. She saw that the younger prisoners, the Pantoran girl and the Twi'lek boy, looked absolutely horrified. The girl had her hands over her mouth, clearly having just stifled a scream, while the Twi'lek boy had paled significantly, his orange skin growing ashen.

"Aw…" Aphra winced, and she scratched her head sheepishly. "Shit. Sorry, kids. I'll give ya a warning next time I'm about to murder a dude, kay?"

Sabine rolled her eyes and she stepped into the cockpit, ushering the Pantoran and Twi'lek in before her. The three other humans stayed back.

"Do you actually have a plan," Lux asked her bitingly, "or are you just shooting your way through this ship and hoping for the best?"

"Hey, am I or am I not still alive?" Aphra swiveled her seat to face him, and clicked her fingers into a gun to point at him. "It's worked so far, hasn't it?"

"You're unbelievable."

"Uh huh, I get that a lot." Aphra turned her chair around so she was fully facing the controls of the freighter. She searched the console, and frowned. "Where are the guns?"

A sudden, familiar yowl shuddered from behind them, and Aphra looked up eagerly. The three humans skittered back into the cockpit, which was now rather cramped, as Krrsantan came marching in. Followed by a stormtrooper.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Aphra gasped, leaping to her feet and shoving Sabine's blaster away as she pointed it at the trooper.

"Oh,  _now_  you have a conscience?" Sabine asked sharply.

"Sabine."

At the sound of a weathered, accented voice beneath the tinny overlay of the helmet, Sabine lowered her weapon. Her expression melted from shock to delight as the stormtrooper removed his helmet to reveal a very bald, very portly clone captain.

"Rex!" Sabine cried, edging forward through the cramped cockpit. He cut through Lux and the blonde man and swept her up in a warm, enormous bear hug. Aphra watched silently, her eyes lowering as though maybe she didn't deserve to watch such a touching scene.

"Uh… who's the Wookiee?" Sabine asked suddenly, poking her head over Rex's shoulder.

"Black Krrsantan," Aphra said, sweeping her arm around the cockpit, "meet everyone. Everyone, meet Black Krrsantan."

"The— the  _bounty hunter_?" The blonde man gasped.

"Is that a problem?" Aphra asked, tilting her head.

"No… I guess…?" He sighed, running his fingers through his limp hair. "This is just a very strange rescue mission."

"Yeah, we had to improvise," Rex admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Prince Luke wanted to be here, but there were some… complications…"

"Luke was going to come?" Sabine looked genuinely surprised. "Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

"Don't sound too grateful," Rex chuckled.

Sabine sighed, and she smoothed her hair back from her face, her eyes darting up toward the ceiling. "It's just… you know how it's been with Luke since Ezra died," she said, her voice low. "He never comes by the  _Ghost_. Did he just throw himself into work, or what?"

"Now, Sabine," Rex said sternly. "You know how much Luke has lost. How much he has sacrificed for this cause. Cut him a little slack if he doesn't want to be reminded of a friend he lost."

"A friend we  _all_  lost!" Sabine looked truly and deeply upset. Her large brown eyes glittered, though not with tears. There was a fierce anger that settled on her round face, contorting her brow and her lips. "It was bad enough that Kanan was gone, but Ezra… he abandoned us, and then he got killed. I don't see the point in being weepy about it."

"Luke doesn't see it that way."

"Well Luke is a sentimental fool," Sabine snapped. " _Clearly_. Or else none of you would be here right now."

"Again," Rex said delicately, "don't act too grateful."

The blonde man cut in as politely as possible, leaning forward so he was nearly beside Rex. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, glancing at Rex curiously before turning his attention back to Sabine, "but you wouldn't happen to be Sabine  _Wren_  would you?"

There was a short moment where Sabine seemed taken aback. Her brow knitted together, and she studied the man uncertainly. "Yes," she said hesitantly. "I am. Why?"

The man's lips quirked into a small smile of disbelief, and he held his hand to his chest. "I'm Korkie Kryze," he said, a small wisp of hair falling onto his forehead. "I don't suppose you remember me— you were just a baby when we met, but…"

"Oh," Sabine said flatly. Then her eyes flew wide, and she took a step back. " _Oh._  Oh— Karabast! Korkie Kryze. Really? Bo's nephew?"

"Ah." Korkie grimaced. "Auntie Bo. How is she?"

"You know, ruling a once again divided Mandalore," Sabine said with a roll of her eyes. "What are you doing here? I didn't think you were a rebel."

"All Mandalorians are rebels at heart," Korkie said with the conviction of someone who truly loved their home. Aphra wondered what that was like.

"Yeah, but…" Sabine frowned, and she glanced around her uncertainly. Then her expression fell. "Oh."

"What?" Korkie asked, blinking down at her.

Sabine jerked a finger in Lux's face. "What is your name again?"

"Lux Bonteri," he said flatly. "Should I be calling you Lady Wren? Prince Korkie?"

"I'm not a prince," Korkie said defensively.

"Your aunts are Duchesses. What does that make you?"

"Shut up," Sabine gasped, rubbing her temples irritably. "I'm trying to think. Lux Bonteri… the Separatist?"

Lux scowled. He said nothing, however.

"You fought with Saw Gerrera," Sabine said, almost mechanically. "You're from Onderon, just like him. You're part of the Rebel Alliance, aren't you?"

Lux inhaled deeply. He nodded.

"You're not like the rest of us," Sabine observed, her arms folding boldly across her chest. "Me and Korkie, Mandalorian nobility. Those two, relatives of former senators turned rebels." Sabine waved off-handedly at the two girls, the human woman and the Pantoran child. Then Sabine locked eyes with the Twi'lek boy, and she shrugged. "I think he's probably a relative of Cham Syndulla."

"Cousin," the boy said softly, his Rylothi accent thick. Sabine's eyes widened, as though she had not expected him to speak Basic, but she smiled at him.

"Cousin, then," she said. She turned to face Lux, and she cocked her head. "So what about you? Why are you here?"

Lux looked abnormally pale. The moment Sabine had mentioned Saw Gerrera, Lux had buckled, and that fascinated Aphra. He looked down at Sabine with large eyes, and his mouth opened and closed. He shook his head.

"I… I don't know," he admitted. He took a step back, and he assessed everyone else in the room. "I… what are your names?" He addressed the three unknown parties.

"Dala Noon," the Pantoran girl said, her lilac hair sitting wild and unkempt at her shoulders. Imperial prison uniforms did not seem to go as low as her size, because the fabric sat limply on her tiny frame. "Uh... my mother was a Senator. Once. Her name was Chuchi?"

The red headed woman scraped back wispy, overgrown bangs from her bold blue eyes, and she shrugged. "Mae Mothma," she said calmly, her starkly prim and proper Core accent hitting every letter of her name softly. "I suppose you know my aunt, Mon?"

"Aunt…" Sabine murmured.

"We're estranged," Mae said curtly. "Which is the only reason the Empire has not executed me yet, as an attempt to get my sister to give up. She wouldn't risk the Rebellion for me."

"I'm… sorry." Sabine blinked rapidly. "If it's any consolation, I understand."

Mae's gaze was icy. "It is not," she said.

Sabine turned her attention to the Twi'lek boy. Aphra waited as patiently as she could, but she could see the impatience in Krrsantan's eye.

"Elav," the boy said, lowering his head. "Elav Shala."

"Not Syndulla?" Sabine asked curiously.

Elav shook his head. "My mother is Syndulla," he said softly. "My father, he is Shala. So I am Shala."

"It's very nice to put some faces to the names," Aphra said, leaning over the pilot's chair and smiling tightly, "I really love making new friends and all, but can't we wait until we're free for that?"

"Crazy one has a point," Elav said, looking sheepish as he shrugged at Sabine.

"Thank you, Elav!" Aphra whirled her finger around her idly. "Whoopdy-do, you're all Imperial hostages. Except Lux, who just sucks, I guess. Rex, can I get you on the guns?"

"Aphra, we don't want to shoot down the other transports," Rex reminded. "There could be prisoners on there."

"We literally cannot board two more freighters!" Aphra gripped the yoke, her mind reeling. "We have Sabine. We did what we came here to do!"

"And what will Luke say when he finds out you destroyed two freighters full of, for all we know,  _more_  Imperial hostages!"

Aphra sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. Damn, she hadn't thought of that. There  _could_  be more. They had been lucky to find the ship with Sabine on it, but now they had to decide if they were going to be good people and rescue the rest of the prisoners.

The fact was, Aphra wasn't a good person.

"Luke isn't here," Aphra said quietly. "The fact is, we just don't have the man power.  _Arc Angel_  is incredible, but she can't work miracles. This freighter might be able to destroy another one, but hold it off long enough for a boarding party to slaughter the crew? Without alerting the Empire? It's just not possible!"

"If we outnumbered them," Rex said thoughtfully, "do you think we could get them to surrender?"

"I— I don't know?" Aphra flung her hands into the air desperately. " _Maybe_? It doesn't really matter, because there's only two of us!"

And just as she spoke, the scanners of the freighter began to whine madly. A ship was coming out of hyperspace, and it was not sending clearance codes. For a moment Aphra merely gaped at the scanners, feeling foolish and petty as she remembered Rex's insistence that back up would arrive.

A small ship came bursting out of hyperspace, a freighter smaller than the one they had just hijacked, and Aphra looked on in dull awe as it zoomed overhead.

"The  _Ghost…_ " Sabine uttered faintly, taking a few steps forward until she was leaning over Aphra's shoulder. "No way…"

"The  _Ghost,_ " Lux repeated, cupping his chin. "That ship flew over Scarif, didn't it?"

"Yeah." Sabine swallowed. "I was in it."

Aphra cocked her head, unable to handle the idle chatter and the simple waiting any longer. She flicked up the gears that kept the freighter hovering in one place, and released the  _Arc Angel_  from the bridge. Then she reared the ship around, listening to the alarmed shouts of the small party of people behind her as she turned the ship around.

"Aphra to  _Arc Angel_ ," she said, leaning into the comm as she directed the ship at the two remaining Imperial freighters. "Who wants to gamble?"

* * *

As their next attempt at going into lightspeed failed, Luke closed his eyes and tried to focus on something else. Anything else, besides the creeping threat of the Empire growing ever more present. He had to be thankful that Hoth had been evacuated safely. That if nothing else, it would only be him, Han, and Chewie that suffer.

Actually, this sucked. This really, really sucked!

"I don't care whose fault it is, Han," Luke said tiredly. "If we're caught… Han, there's something you need to know…"

There was a sharp spark of panic in Han's dark eyes as they flickered to Luke face. He then cut Luke off abruptly. "Don't talk like that!" he snapped. The  _Falcon_ shot through space, leaving the asteroid field behind without pity. "We're getting out of this, kid, whether you like it or not!"

Luke swallowed back his sad, small admittance, feeling it like a lump in his throat. He pulled his legs up to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt sick. Physically and emotionally ill. He wondered if there was a tonic you could take for bad blood.

"Sir, we just lost the main rear deflector shield," Threepio said suddenly. "One more direct hit on the back quarter and we're done for."

Han exhaled shakily, and he stared out the window of the  _Falcon_ , his knuckles white and his head lowered. "Turn her around," he said.

Beside him, Chewie glanced at him wildly and yowled in absolute confusion. Luke lowered his legs, raising his head with a small, uncertain frown.

"Han…" Luke shook his head. "Hold on. What are you doing now?"

"I said turn her around!" Han cried, ignoring Luke and leaning forward, flicking several switches and yanking down a lever. "I'm going to put all power in the front shield."

Luke's mouth went dry. He stared vacantly out the window, and he found himself speaking without truly meaning to. "If you want to die so badly, Han, the least you can do is let me and Chewie out."

"Shut up!" Han's teeth glistened as he bared them at the yawning window. "Let me think."

They made the turn quickly. His breath caught inside his throat as they shot forward through space, charging towards the Star Destroyer without qualms or pity. Luke's knuckles were white against the armrests of his seat.

With an alarming swerve, right as they swooped beneath the Destroyer, Han attached them to it and powered down all the systems.

They sat in silence, staring ahead with bated breath. Another ship pulls close, and Luke found himself closing his eyes.  _My mind is a mountain. I am a mountain. He cannot get in. He cannot get in. He cannot get in!_

In his mind, he saw Ahsoka. He was twelve, and they were sitting on the dais of the old courtyard in the palace on Aldera, cross-legged and sure. Luke was wearing a pair of baggy blue pants that cinched at the knee, and a tank top tucked into them. Ahsoka had been wearing a black, high-collared shirt tucked into breathable, flowy white pants. He remembered reaching over her head and touching the very end of her left montral.

She'd cracked an eye open and smirked at him.

"Shouldn't you be meditating, little prince?" she'd teased.

"Tell me a story, Fulcrum," he'd gasped, leaning in closer and all but falling into her shoulder. "I'm bored of meditating."

"You haven't really done anything."

"My mind is a mountain," Luke quoted her, his mouth buried in her shoulder, "I am a mountain. Nothing can come in. Right? So tell me a story!"

"You're a demanding little prince," Ahsoka had observed, stroking his head idly. It had just begun to grow out from the last haircut he had gotten on Coruscant, when his father had decided his hair had been too long to present him before the Senate. "What kind of story?"

"Any kind. But let it be an adventure, please, I'm sick to death of romance."

"What's wrong with romance?

Luke groaned, and he'd fallen into her lap, half sprawled across the cobblestone. "It's just not for me," he'd said.

The present caught up to him like a fist to the jaw. His eyes snapped open as the shadow of Vader's presence on the ship before him was abruptly cut off. He'd gone. He was gone. Luke exhaled shakily into his hands, and he tried to keep himself together, he tried to hide his relief, but he couldn't.

"There we go," Han gasped. "The fleet is beginning to break up. Chewie, go back and stand by the manual release for the landing claw."

Chewie nodded, and he stood and left the cockpit. Luke watched him go, his lower lip trembling.

Before Threepio could go on another tangent, one that would only worsen his pounding headache, Luke leaned forward and turned him off. Tears burned his eyes, and he inhaled deeply as Han turned to grin at him.

"Thanks," he said, focusing on Luke's face. His smile fell, and he leaned forward worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, man. You're crying."

"I'm fine, Han."

"Is it because of that stupid kiss?" Han sighed heavily, and he twisted to face Luke with an earnest stare. "Look, I'm sorry. I had no idea you'd react like that, and if I had I never woulda done it. It was a stupid mistake. I just thought…"

"You were sad because Leia was mean to you," Luke said in a small, empty voice, "so you thought you could try your luck with me. I'm sorry that didn't work out, Han."

"That's not it!"

Luke's eyes slid dangerously to Han's face. Another tear slipped from his eye, and he wiped it hastily. "I don't care," he said quietly. "I don't care what your intentions were. You get it, right? That we're not a good fit for each other. Can't we just be friends?"

Han stared at him, his eyes falling away guiltily. He nodded. "Being friends is fine," he said softly. "I just… I feel bad. I didn't mean to make you so upset."

"It's really not a big deal," Luke muttered.

"I made you cry!" Han pointed at his face. "I'm still making you cry!"

Unable to keep in his disbelief, Luke barked a laugh and leaned back in his seat. "This?" Luke pointed at his puffy eyes and distressingly red nose. "This has nothing to do with you. Don't sweat it."

"C'mon, kid…"

"C'mon, Han," Luke shot right back. "I'm not a child. Obviously. But I  _am_  ten years younger than you, and so is Leia. Please keep that in mind when you're off trying to pursue her, and learn from your mistakes with me. No one likes to feel helpless."

"Right…" Han rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "That was wrong of me. You were not into it. I kept pushing. I'm sorry."

"Just don't do it again," Luke said sternly. "To  _anyone_. It's creepy."

"Got it. Noted. No more of that."

Han drummed his fingers again the console idly, lowering his head and looking clearly very guilty. Maybe Luke had been too hard on him. Han was his best friend, aside from Leia, so it was hard to accept that they had hurt each other so readily and without even truly meaning to.

"So…" Luke moved awkwardly, unstrapping himself from his chair and moving to sit in Chewie's seat. Han glanced at him uncertainly, as though he did not quite believe that Luke would sit so close to him. "What  _is_  the plan? Since I doubt we'll be sticking around for this Destroyer to hit lightspeed. At least, I hope."

"Nah…" Han chuckled, and he rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Well, as long as they follow standard protocol, they'll be dumping their trash before they jump to lightspeed. So… if all goes well… we can just float away."

This was a surprisingly simple and clever plan. Luke blinked ahead of him for a moment before turning to face Han with a bright, disbelieving grin. "Han," he said earnestly, "you are either a genius or a madman!"

"Hey, who said I can't be both?" Han chuckled, swaying in his seat slightly, obviously a bit nervous about where they were at in terms of friendship.

Luke didn't think he could hold a grudge for very long. Not over something as small as a kiss. He was still a little angry though, or maybe a little bitter.

"Well," Luke said, shrugging his shoulders mildly, "regardless, it's probably our best shot. Quick thinking on your part too."

"Have I or have I not survived this long without you and the Jedi brat?" Han rolled his eyes, and smiled smugly. "I happen to be very capable, thank you very much!"

"Right," Luke said, smiling amusedly. "Okay. So how about after we float away with the garbage?"

"Oh." Han blinked rapidly, and he shrugged, leaning forward over his navicomputer. "Well, we'll just have to find a port. Can't be too hard, right?"

"Depends on the system," Luke murmured.

Han hummed in agreement. "We're in the Anoat system," he said, scratching his head.

"So…?" Luke tilted his head. All his years of geography and star-mapping lessons were swarming back to him, and he knew that there were few and far between planets within reach. That could be a very good thing, since they wanted to lay low, but it would be difficult if they needed to make another quick escape.

"Huh." Han's eyes lit up suddenly. "Well… that's something."

"What's something?" Luke asked him patiently. He understood that Han was working in his own head. It was only a matter of time before he shared.

"Lando."

Luke nodded as if he understood. "Okay," he said firmly. He looked through the wide window of the cockpit as silence fell between them. He had sounded so certain, like he knew what Han was talking about. He almost laughed as he leaned to the side, still staring out toward the stars, and whispered, "What's a Lando?"

At this, Han  _did_  laugh. He shoved Luke playfully back into Chewie's seat. "Lando is my friend," he said, his voice growing a little shaky and faint toward the end. "Uh… kinda."

With a small smirk, Luke raised an eyebrow at him. "Kinda?"

"Listen, this guy, Lando Calrissian… he's sorta a scoundrel. Not a very nice man, or a very honest one, but he's scraped my sorry ass out of the bottom of a bottle more times than I can count. Maybe he'll do it again."

"Hmm…" Luke studied Han thoughtfully. Lando Calrissian. He had never heard of the man, though perhaps that was really a good thing. Some of the people Luke tended to surround himself with weren't the most upstanding folk. Take Han and Aphra. "Well, it can't hurt."

A slight, delighted grin appeared on Han's face. He began to nod, possibly to himself, possibly to Luke, and he studied his navicomputer with interest. "It's a long way off, but I think we can make it. Tell me we can make it."

"We can make it," Luke said firmly. He believed it in his heart. He believed it because it was true. The Force willed it, he was certain, and if he trusted anything in this life, it was that the Force had other plans for him.

His conviction must have been enough, because Han did not reply.

Over the commlink, Chewie's sharp and ready howl caused them both to straighten up. Han leaned heavily over the console, half slipping out of his seat as his gaze slid over the readout.

"Here we go, Chewie," he breathed, lowering himself back into his seat as he blinked up at the window. Luke found himself sinking away, his eyes flitting out toward the empty space and the gray underside of the massive Star Destroyer. "Stand by."

There was a few seconds where nothing happened. Neither of them breathed. The stars in the sky twinkled distantly.

"Detach!" Han shouted.

With a slight lurch, the ship creaked and fell away from the underside of the Star Destroyer slowly. Luke could only watch mutely as the distance between them and the monstrous ship grew. They both sank in relief, and Luke held his head in his hands, shaky laughter falling from his lips.

"It worked," he said faintly as the Star Destroyer disappeared into the sucking abyss of hyperspace. "You did it, Han."

"Well," Han said, winding his arms behind his head and grinning. "Yeah. What'd you expect?"

Luke's laughter grew louder, and his shoulders slumped as he gave himself over to the sheer, brilliant relief. It stretched over him like a blanket, and he found himself fitted snugly into its warm embrace. He lifted his head, tipped it back, and he smiled brightly.

* * *

Wooden shavings fell around her knees as her vibroblade easily carved into the small stick. All around her, boulders of varying size floated. They drifted around her head like a ring of asteroids.

"Spoken, you have not," Yoda murmured, "of your vision."

The blade froze against the half-naked bit of wood. The rocks around her head faltered. After spending most of the afternoon levitating boulders upside-down, balancing on one hand with Yoda standing on top of her, she had been hoping for some sort of reprieve. Of course he would not give her one.

"I did not think I had to," Leia said stiffly, applying her blade to the wood with a sudden vigor. She slashed away excess bark, her eyes glued to the uneven bumps on the surface of the stick. Perhaps she could find something to sand it down. Later.

"Your choice, it is, to share what you saw," Yoda said, leaning heavily against his walking stick. "Fear, I sense. More than before."

Leia threw down the vibroblade and her stick, and she stood up sharply. All around her, the boulders stuttered as she released them, falling back to the earth with an alarming  _thump_.

"You knew what I was going to see in that cave," she said, taking a deep breath. "You warned me over and over, saying that I could become like Darth Vader if I'm not careful. So the Force showed me exactly that."

Distant creatures croaked and moaned, skittered and chirped. The bog around them breathed in and out like an artificial lung. Mist blew into her face with every small breeze, and vines swayed overhead uneasily. Dagobah was calm, and it was living like nothing else in the galaxy mattered. Just like Yoda himself.

"Exactly that, hmm?" Yoda tilted his head. "I am wondering… did it not show you more?"

"More of  _what_?" Leia's mind was brimming with uncertainty. That vision had felt so  _real_. She could still feel the sting of the old man's lightsaber against her ear. Every time she found a reflective surface she found herself combing her hair back in paranoia, scraping her nails across the surface of her ear like she might find a scab. But there was nothing.

"More," Yoda said. "From the beginning, you should start. Fear, I sense. Uneasiness. On edge, you are."

"What does it matter?" Leia collapsed onto a rock, tucking her chin into her knees and sighing. "It wasn't real."

"Reality!" Yoda's croaking laughter bellowed along the tips of the trees and blended into the slow groan of swamp sounds. "What you make of it, reality is. Related are visions and reality. No less real is one from the other. Relative, all things are. You, and I, and these roots, and these vines? Whispers, the Force does. When one sees visions, one sees the Force. Reality, is the Force not?"

Leia sat up a little straighter, and she frowned. "I…" She smoothed back her scraggly hair from her face, and she blinked rapidly. "I guess I never thought of it that way."

"Speak." Yoda nodded firmly. "Want to know, I do. How fair you, young one?"

"I'm…" Leia groaned, and she rubbed her head. "I'm fine. I'm great."

"Oh?" Yoda's ears twitched, and she stared at the ground with dull eyes as he chuckled. "Lies do not become you. Speak up! How fair you?"

Rubbing her eyelids with the back of her hand, she shook her head. Dread had been stealing itself away in the pit of her heart for so long now, and she felt it growing and spreading and infecting every vein inside her body like a disease. She could not eradicate it by meditating. She could not cut it away by keeping her mind busy. It just grew and grew and grew, and she felt that it would soon consume her.

"I guess… well…" Leia sighed deeply, and she squeezed her legs closer to her chest. "Oh, I don't know. I'm so confused. I thought I understood who I was, who I am meant to be, but ever since that vision… Master, do you think I could end up like Darth Vader?"

Yoda peered at her, his large eyes heavy with the swollen wrinkles of several hundred years of baggage. His eyes dropped from her face, and she found herself slumping in defeat. Great. If even Yoda feared it…

"In all Jedi, master and Padawan alike, does the potential for evil dwell," Yoda said. "Resilience you must have. Patience. Courage. Wisdom and faith. Stray, you must not. Move forward. Always. Toward truth. Toward peace."

Leia could only nod desperately. She took in every nugget of information he gave her, and she tucked it away in her mind. Falling would be the worst thing she could do. The Force was screaming at her that she was not infallible, and she had to take a step back and accept it.

"Come, come," Yoda gasped, dragging his stubby fingers through the air. Leia blinked at him, and she pushed herself to her feet. She settled down beside him, her eyes downcast. "Now… of your vision, you must tell me."

Leia groaned. She nodded slowly, grimacing up at the trees above her. "If you insist," she said dryly. She plucked at the frayed end of her shirt hem. The beige cloth was stained and smelly, and the buttons were coming loose. She needed a bath desperately, and was beginning to consider cutting her hair again to ward off insects.

After gathering some wood and starting a small fire, Leia began to undo her braids. She looked at Yoda from over the flames, and she sighed under his expectant gaze.

"I fought Darth Vader, obviously," she said, knotting her fingers between each of the plaits and unraveling the braids idly. "It was a quick fight. I won, I cut off his head, and I saw my own face inside his mask. That was my lesson in anger, I think. But my lesson in fear came before that."

"Saw someone else, you did," Yoda observed.

Leia's fingers worked methodically. Her hair was limp and greasy, and she longed for a long, warm soak in any water that did not smell noxious. Finally she finished undoing the braids, and she shook out the twisted mass of brown hair that floated around her head.

"I did," she said finally. "I don't know who it was— I didn't recognize him. He was really old, though. Older than Ben. His hair and beard were white, and his eyes were dark, and he looked so…" She sighed, and broke a stick of raw nowan root and began to gnaw at its sweet inside. "Regal? Is that the word? I don't know. He spoke like someone who knows they're important, though. Not like the Emperor or Vader, but someone like… like Mon Mothma. I heard his voice, and no matter what he said, it sounded like it was the most important thing in the world. You know?"

Yoda hummed softly. She edged closer to him, glancing between him and the fire. She offered out the other half of her nowan root, and the small old Jedi took it with a smile.

"I don't know how I felt, fighting him," she admitted dazedly. The flames before her flickered and danced, and the wood split with a sudden breath of embers that glittered against the hazy dusk. "It was like he was toying with me, but… not like how a rancor plays with its food, more like how you played dumb when I first arrived here. Like he wanted to teach me a lesson."

"Oh?" Yoda nibbled on the edge of the nowan root, and he eyed her curiously. "And a lesson, did this mystery man teach?"

"I really can't say for sure." Leia sighed, rolling the end of the root between her fingers. It was starting to ooze nectar. "He beat me pretty easily, though. Master, I've never seen anyone fight like him before. It was a style I've never seen in lightsaber combat, and Ben went through most of the forms with me."

"Show me," said Yoda.

Leia shot him a short glance, her brow furrowing. Yoda merely bit into the nowan root, and looked at her with large, expectant eyes. So she sighed and stood up, brushing the dirt from her already mud-stained trousers, and she unhooked her lightsaber from her belt.

"I guess… it sort of looked like this," she said, letting her lightsaber hiss into life in her palm. She crossed her left arm behind her back, and straightened her spine. Her shoulders squared off, and her chin tipped down slightly. Her feet slid apart as she angled herself toward a nearby tree, and extended her luminescent blue saber with a pin straight arm. "But when he moved, he just… kept attacking?" She tilted her head toward Yoda.

Her tiny master sat beside the fire looking grim and unsure.

"It was all very fast," Leia said, her lightsaber drooping. "There was nothing flashy about it. He just knew where to strike."

"Yes," Yoda said somberly, "Always he did know."

Leia extinguished her lightsaber and dropped to her knees beside Yoda. She peered at him curiously, leaning forward with great interest. "You know who he is," she said, "don't you?"

Yoda inhaled deeply, and he closed his eyes. "My apprentice, he once was," he said, his voice small and grave. "Dooku, his name was."

The familiarity of the name struck her. Long Tatooine nights of heated political conversations between herself and Ben, her mouth dry and her throat sore from ceaseless debate. Oh, she missed those days. She could have sat forever on the dusty floor of Ben's hovel, sipping tea and hugging a pillow to her chest while philosophizing a peaceful end to the long gone Clone Wars with her former master.

Luke knew politics, but he never liked debating with her. He gave in too easily, and often just let her win. Did he think she couldn't keep up? She could have been a master at debate. Maybe gotten a law degree. A doctorate, even! If Chelli Aphra could, than certainly Leia Skywalker could.

"Dooku," she repeated, sinking against the ground. "Oh. Count Dooku. Qui-Gon's master?"

"Informed, Obi-Wan kept you," Yoda observed.

"I liked knowing things," Leia said with a shrug. "And I think both Ben and I really found Count Dooku fascinating. We spent hours upon hours theorizing why he started the Clone Wars and became a Sith. Ben thinks there was something deeper going on than just a quest for power."

At that, Yoda seemed curious. "And you?" He leaned forward, and pointed a single finger at her face. "What say you?"

That was hard. Leia couldn't think too hard about it, not now when her morality felt skewed toward the most intense and pristine good there could be. But Ben had made sense in that Count Dooku's motives never made any sense at all. He could not have been after power, not when he was a Count, not when he had been a Jedi so revered that he could have taken Yoda's place if he had tried hard enough. Something deeper was at play, but they would never know what.

"I think he had his own agenda," she said cautiously. "Not that I think he went about it the right way, but it could be that he really believed in the Separatist cause. I've met a few former Separatists. They haven't changed their world view in over twenty years, and that's because the Empire was born from the Republic. I understand that the Republic was flawed, and maybe so did he. Maybe he was just a very radical leader that sacrificed too much for his cause."

Yoda's eyes were glued to the ground. "Think, you do, that the Sith are so nuanced?"

"I think that what you said is true," she replied, dragging her knees back up to her chin, and resting her cheek against them. "Anyone can fall to the Dark Side. Given enough reason, given enough doubt. I don't want to end up like Dooku, dying scared and alone."

A great silence fell over them. Leia realized now that she didn't feel so bad about what had happened in the cave. Putting a name to the old man's face, knowing that she had been fighting  _Count Dooku_  made her feel better. Now all she needed was for Ben to appear so they could pick up their conversation about forgiveness and acceptance.

"Learning, you are," Yoda said softly. "On the path, you are, to accepting your fears. Work with them now, you must. Know them. Understand them. Let them win, you must not."

"I won't," she said solemnly.

But it was a trial. She knew that. She understood that. Looking back on her whole life, she had been so preoccupied with her own self-importance, so sure that she could do something about this awful world of hers, that she never took the warnings she got about her anger issues seriously. Ben had always warned her to be careful of her temper, to mind it, to rein it in, and compared to her childhood self she was certain she had.

Maybe that was not enough, though.

Anger and fear. Fear and anger.

Vader and Dooku. Dooku and Vader.

They had both been Jedi once. They had both been close to their masters, their apprentices, their Order, their code. And then they had broken away, and twisted themselves into horrible, blood thirsty monsters. She could not imagine either of them in a position of goodness, where their less desirable qualities were not at the forefront.

That could be her. If she was not careful, if she did not learn and heed her masters' warnings, that could be her. How scary was that?

She kicked some dirt over the small fire and knelt down before Yoda. He scrambled onto her back and locked his arms around her neck as she trudged back through the thickening fog, trusting her instincts at his behest, until they reached the old hut.

Yoda was already half asleep by the time she laid out her blanket on the floor of the hut and peered nervously into his face.

"I don't know if I'm doing the right thing," she admitted. She noted how Yoda cracked an eye open at her, and bundled himself tighter in his threadbare blanket.

"Knowing," Yoda croaked, "what is right, the hardest job, it is."

Leia rested her head down on a lumpy pillow. A familiar sense of dread had been following her for days, and she could not quite place it. Even if she felt a bit better about her vision in the cave, she did not think that the feeling would ever actually subside. It felt like a part of her.

"There was one part of my vision," Leia whispered to the dark, unsure if Yoda was listening. "It was really fast, and I hardly processed it, but… there was a man. He looked really young, maybe my age or even younger. He was…" Leia's eyes flickered up toward the darkened ceiling of the hut, tracing cracks and crannies in the mud-brick with her eyes. "He was terrified. I never want to feel like that. To look like that. To feel so terrified and helpless, like you have no way out."

Yoda said nothing. Her words hung in the dark, in the silence. Her lips hung open as she tried to explain further, tried to probe Yoda for an answer about this man, about his fate. About how it tied to  _her_  fate. If Dooku meant fear, if Vader meant anger, what did this man mean? Weakness? Desolation? Pride? She did not know.

Eventually her exhaustion took over, sweeping her body like the cover of night and molding her to the cold hut floor. Sleep came like a candle flickering out, and she saw smoke trailing behind her eyes.

"Master," a boy gasped into the dark, his voice smooth and controlled, level and certain. The short rasp of a struck match hissed as a small flame lit up his young face. In his hands, an unlit, smoldering match sat beside a burning one. The light cast innumerable shadows around his square head, lining his proud, long nose. "Master, are you alright?"

Outside the window, a window that had formed from nothing like a cloud of smoke, rain pelted glass and a momentous  _crack_  shook the sky. The crack was followed by low, tumbling grumbles, like boulders rolling down a mountain.

"You should not worry so much, little one," a familiar voice teased, a voice like honey over barbed vines. Count Dooku gathered himself up from the floor, dusting off his dark robes and stroking his graying beard thoughtfully. "I merely lost my balance."

"You  _never_  lose your balance," the boy said, his eyes flickering wildly in the dim light. "Please do not pretend with me, Master, it's quite obvious. You're sick."

"Silliness does not suit you, Qui-Gon," said the young Dooku, his gaunt face lowering as he peered at the boy. They were nearly the same height, and from where Leia was standing it was odd to see. They both towered over her.

"I'm not joking," the young Qui-Gon said lighting a small candle and flicking out the match. He boldly held the candle up to Dooku's face, and studied his eyes with a sharp, intuitive gaze. "Yes. You're ill. You've caught the Corellian Flu. Didn't I tell you to get vaccinated before we left?"

"It hardly matters," Dooku said stiffly. "I am not sick."

"Yes, you are!"

"Oh, enough." Dooku rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Suppose I am ill? Nothing about the Corellian Flu is fatal."

"The mortality rate is 10%," Qui-Gon replied stubbornly. "Higher, depending on the location. You must rest."

"Qui-Gon…" Dooku murmured.

"Master," Qui-Gon retorted.

They stared each other down, Master and Apprentice, both of them tall and stubborn and arrogant. Leia snuck closer, feeling like she was walking on cotton and trudging unsteadily toward them.

Without warning, both Dooku and Qui-Gon turned their heads sharply to look at her. She froze, her shoulders tensing up, and she wondered if this was real.

"A lesson fear," Dooku told her coolly.

"A lesson in loyalty," Qui-Gon murmured forlornly.

Leia stood and stared. She wondered if Qui-Gon knew what his master had become. If he still loved him anyway.

"Master Dooku was not always so cold and closed off," Qui-Gon said, as though reading her thoughts. He peered up at the old master before them, and he gripped the candle tightly in his hands. "He was mean, sure, and unreasonably strict. He did not like my preferred lightsaber form, and he did not approve of my fondness for meddling in the affairs of gentlefolk and picking up strays. But he shared my affinity for the unorthodox approach to the Jedi Code, and made me the Jedi I was."

"So you forgive him?" Leia asked him sharply. "Even though he did horrible things?"

"My old master was beyond forgiveness," Qui-Gon said sadly, his eyes flickering to the older man's face. He stood, frozen like a statue, and Leia watched him disintegrate into ash. "Here is a lesson, Leia, that Obi-Wan and Yoda will not teach you." He stepped toward her, and the window beside them exploded. Rain came skittering in, plastering his face and her hands and leaving them sinking into knee deep water. "It is okay to find yourself angry and lost. It is okay to feel like you are not doing the best that you can, because you  _can_  do better. Everyone can. There is no one in this world who is the perfect example of the Light, or of goodness. What makes you good is your ability to recognize that you can do better, and your ability to  _try._ "

Leia swallowed hard, his words colliding with all of the vague lessons and jumbled philosophies she had been fed for the past few days. "Yoda says there is no try," she argued weakly.

Qui-Gon's youthful face split into a small, mischievous grin. "Yoda's teachings are to be taken with a grain of salt, little one," he said warmly. "The point of that little lesson is not to dissuade you from trying, but to urge you to carry through with a hard task. In order to succeed, however, you  _must_  try. Yoda does not grasp these things because Yoda has not taught anyone older than nine standard years since my own master was a Padawan."

"He taught children?" Leia asked curiously.

"Does that surprise you? With the way he looks and speaks?" Qui-Gon laughed, and she found herself laughing too.

The water was up to their shoulders, and Leia was floating. She looked at Qui-Gon, and she tried to smile, but he was gone in a blink. Lightning cracked above her, a spider-web of bright prongs dancing in the sky. Her head fell under water, and she sunk into the depths of the darkness.

The water was breathable. She was falling slowly, her body twirling in the air, and she passed by clouds and clouds and clouds, her fingers dragging playfully across them, her body leaving a Leia shaped hole in a particularly large, blustery one.

She fell past a city that protruded the cloud formations, floating on the edge of fat white cotton dreams, and she floated alongside it, staring confusedly. Suddenly she was flung through the air, crashing through a wall like it was not even there, and she stood in a room, her lungs torn from her chest and her heart in her hands.

Everything was bright and white and glittering except for the shadow at the other side of a long table.

Everything was spinning. Everything was trembling. That old dread caught her by the throat and throttled her.

Han was being restrained, yelling something unintelligible. Luke was standing before her, his shoulders trembling and his head bowed low.

"Luke," she gasped, stumbling forward and reaching out to touch him. He shrunk away from her touch, and he screamed.

And with that scream falling from Leia's mouth, she bolted upright in the small hut on Dagobah, and she doubled over in horror. She could feel Luke's anguish, his fear and uncertainty, and it tore through her like a metal rod slicing through her gut.

"Another vision, hm?" Yoda tilted his head beside her. The hut was still dark, though she could hear the early morning creatures croaking and chirping and wailing outside. "Do not bode well, these visions."

"No…" Leia kicked back her blanket and scrubbed her face with her hands. "No, no, no. I have to go."

"Go?" Yoda demanded.

She did not reply. For a moment she merely stood, her shoulders hunched and her hair loose and wild around her shoulders.

Then she composed herself with the steadiness of a surgeon, and began to gather her things.

"Stop," Yoda said. His voice was surprisingly firm, and it caused Leia enough pause in her frantic stacking of belongings that he was able to approach her. He put a small, wizened hand on her arm.

All of her things went spilling across the floor, and she sunk to her knees beside him.

"Master Yoda," she whispered, tears stinging her wide, distant eyes. They were focused on a wall, finding the white mud to echo the bright white chamber she had seen in her dream. Everything around her was muddled and uneasy, like she was wading through a thick fog. "Master, I can't stay. My friends… if I don't go—"

"Fickle things, visions are," Yoda murmured. "Great help, or great hindrance. Act blindly, do not!"

"They're in trouble!" Leia cried, turning to face him with wide eyes. "I can't stay here. I have to go help them!"

"Not helping them, this reaction is." Yoda looked her in the eye, and she saw how somber he was. "The future, you saw. Always in motion, the future is. A chance, there is, that false the vision is."

Leia swallowed back a defensive shout, and she looked down at her hands. What if the vision really wasn't real? What if they weren't in any danger at all?

"No." Leia pushed herself to her feet, and she looked down at Yoda with certainty. "No, I know I'm right. I know they're in trouble, I can feel it!"

"Controlling you, your fear is!" Yoda accused her, pointing his walking stick at her and frowning deeply. "Nothing did you learn, hm? From Dooku? From Vader?"

"What's the use of the Force if I can't protect the people I love?" Leia demanded, shooting a cold look down at Yoda. "What's the point of the Jedi, if not to protect the innocent against evil?"

"For personal gain, the Force is not."

"Who  _cares_  if it's personal?" Leia gasped, her fingers closing into fists at her sides. She tried to calm herself, tried to make herself appear like she had a grip on her emotions, but she couldn't. Right now, Leia Skywalker looked like she was half-crazed and on the brink of a major breakdown. There were tears in her eyes, but she blinked them back. "All my life I've been told that I'm too damn much. That I have to tone myself down, that I can't live with my heart tacked onto every little crusade, but you know what? I don't want to be anyone else. I can be a Jedi, and love as many people as I want, and save as many people as I can, and  _that_  is the only way to keep the anger and hate at bay, Master. And that is why I have to go."

And with that, Leia went back to gathering her things. She knew she tended to live a bit like a sandstorm, sending everything into a whirlwind and leaving things where they did not belong, overturned and half forgotten. She stuffed her belongings into her rucksack and threw it onto her back.

"Decide for you, I cannot," Yoda said finally, hobbling closer to her and bowing his head. "Clouded, the future is. Make sky or sea, heads or tails of it, I cannot. Understand, you must, before you go. Help them, you may. But you will destroy all that they have fought and suffered for."

His words were somber, cold, and worst of all, stinging with a sense of truth. Leia's fingers tightened on her rucksack, and she exhaled shakily.

"How?" she asked.

He peered up at her.

"How does my interference destroy what they've worked for?" she asked. "I don't understand. Help me understand."

"The danger," Yoda said softly, "know what it is, you do not."

Leia could only swallow her words at that, her eyes flickering toward the ground.

"Sense I trap, I do."

It was not fair. Of course it wasn't fair, life was not fair, not in the desert, and not in the stars. She had been fool enough once to think that outside the blinding blue skies and scorching yellow deserts, beyond the binary stars, there was some miraculously kinder world. But she had been wrong.

All the galaxy was just another dust bowl, turning the blind eye to injustice and preparing to blow her away.

"I would rather fall into a trap," Leia said in a voice that stood sturdier than mountains and fell from her lips as easy as a breath, "then allow my friends to die."


	6. step into the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is my last fully written chapter. i might have a chapter to update next thursday, but i don't see myself having much time to write in the next week or so, so we'll see!
> 
> for now, please enjoy!

Aphra hung back as Sabine flung her arms around the Twi'lek woman who had greeted them, burying her face in her shoulder and holding on for dear life. Having interacted with Sabine, Aphra wouldn't have pegged her for a hugger. Maybe she just did not have enough friends.

The gamble had paid off. Threatening the two freighters with three heavily armed ships had given them the leeway they had needed, and the ships surrendered without a fight. Shara Bey and Wedge Antilles were piloting them to a secure location in order to be stripped, processed, and redistributed. The prisoners had gone with them, all except for Sabine and Elav Shala.

The boy hung back beside Aphra, looking grim and uncertain. Aphra eyed him curiously.

"Not one for reunions?" she asked, nudging him gently.

"My cousin," he said, his thick accent nearly consuming his words, "has not seen me in a long time. I doubt she will recognize me."

"But you thought you'd come aboard anyway," Aphra observed. "Just to see."

Elav shrugged, and he offered a vague smirk. "Worth a shot, no?" He shook his head. "If I am being truthful, I am the family shame. I do not fight wars. I do not fly starfighters. I do not make bombs and save babies. I read. I write about my culture. I hide when bombs come, because I am scared."

Aphra couldn't help but feel sympathy for the kid. Certainly Aphra was pretty reckless with how she lived her life, but she always had  _living_  at the top of her list of interests. So she could understand this boy's reluctance to follow the family tradition of rebel insurgents.

"There's nothing wrong when being scared," Aphra told him.

"No," he said grimly, "but being a coward? That is no good, Doctor."

 _Why do I feel like I have just been personally attacked?_  She thought glumly as the Twi'lek woman's attention fell on the boy. Her green eyes glittered curiously, and she approached them both slowly.

"Doctor." She acknowledged Aphra with a node, and then smiled at the boy beside her. "Hello, Elav. Do you remember me?"

Elav's eyes were large as he nodded mutely.

Relief washed over the woman's face, and she took Elav by the shoulders and yanked him into a tight hug. "I'm glad," she murmured.

When they began to speak to one another in a hushed tone, vaguely familiar Twi'leki syllables falling from their tongues, Aphra decided to leave them to it. She slipped out of the hold of the  _Ghost_ , finding herself wandering into a hallway. The  _Arc Angel_  was being flown by Black Krrsantan out toward Corellia, since he was not privy to Rebellion secrets. And he clearly did not want to be in the know, so Aphra let him go. It wasn't like the old Wookiee would steal from her. He did seem to like her, weird as it was.

The freighter was small, but there were four cabins with two bunks in each. Surprisingly spacious for such a small ship. Out of curiosity, Aphra peered into each one. The first was clearly the Twi'lek pilot's. General Syndulla? Aphra could not remember her first name. Spare bits of flying gear were strewn over a box, cracked goggles and worn old caps sitting in plain sight. There were colorful murals leaping off the walls and the ceiling and the floors, deep purples and shocking reds curling around the two bunks. The next cabin was similar, with variations to the murals. The bunks had not been slept in recently, Aphra could see, but it was kept tidy enough that it could be a guest cabin.

The next cabin was a bit darker and messier than Syndulla's and the spare. Also fairly smelly. Weaponry was dropped carelessly on the floor, left propped up against the wall, or just disassembled on the bed. More murals, these ones far more cartoonish and silly than the ones in Syndulla's room, littered the walls. Aphra found herself holding her breath to step into the room and peer at a portrait of the Lasat being crushed by a round-faced child, both their faces comedically etched in horror. Aphra smirked at it, and then peered at the bunks. Once again one was lived in, the lower one. The top bunk was abandoned, visible dust layering its cushion.

The last cabin was haunted. Aphra stood in the doorway for a few minutes, feeling cold and unsure, as she often did before entering a tomb. However, because she was an archaeologist, she had no qualms with entering the room. It smelled musty, like it had not been disturbed in years, and when she dragged her hand over a trunk, her gloves came back dusty. She moved further in, finding herself drifting toward the empty bunks, alarmed by how  _bare_  it seemed. Popping open a compartment beside a small cushioned seat, she reeled back as a small crystal box rolled out of the compartment, falling at her feet. She scooped it up carefully, holding it up to the dim light and tilting her head.

A Jedi holocron? It had been  _ages_  since she had seen one of these. When was it, exactly? She had to think back pretty far. Had it been on Jedha, when she had broken into the old Whill temple to get a kyber crystal for one of her anonymous patrons? Aphra had to grimace at that. Oh  _now_  she knew why and how Vader had tracked her down. She hadn't even thought of that.

This one was in much better shape than the one she had found on Jedha. That one had fallen apart in her hands, much to her dismay. Bits of busted glass fell out from four of its eight sides, shimmering as it had slipped from the delicately intricate metal barrier. This one, she saw, had an ugly crack on the crystalline interior. Only one side, though, which meant it could, in theory, still work.

Aphra swung her rucksack around, glad she had procured it from the  _Arc Angel_  before boarding the  _Ghost_. She dropped it inside and latched it tightly before examining the compartment more closely.

To her surprise there was another holocron. This one was worse for wear, its triangular shape a bit beaten in, and one of its points lying disassembled beside the rest of it. Aphra considered picking it up, but her mind tipped backwards toward the incident with Rur at the sight of it. At least she knew for a fact that first holocron was Jedi-made, and would not harm anyone. This one… could probably make a profit. Yeah, it would. She  _could_  sell it, but…

 _Vader could use it,_  she thought in mild disgust.  _Holocrons are meant to store information, to teach stuff. If this is a_ _ **bad**_ _holocron, wouldn't it just make Vader more powerful? Nuh-uh_.

There was, of course, a chance it wouldn't find its way to Vader. But Aphra had a suspicion that any Jedi artifact she put on the black market would find its way to him. Especially now that his witch hunt had been given new life with the appearance of Leia Skywalker.

 _I'll take the Jedi one,_  she decided,  _and give it to Luke. Or Leia. Whoever comes back first_.

There was no way to make a profit off it without risking Vader getting a hold of it. And the last thing Aphra wanted was to one, give Vader  _anything_ , and two, piss off Luke. Selling a Jedi artifact would sufficiently damage the only positive relationship in her life, and she was not ready for that.

Look at her! She was being so nice today.

She was just about to pick up the last item in the compartment, a worn looking white mask that looked  _vaguely_  familiar, if she had her histories correct, when a voice from the doorway cut right through her.

"I'm not sure how it is where you come from, Doctor," General Syndulla said sharply, "but on Ryloth, when someone snoops around where they don't belong, it's called  _trespassing._ "

"Sorry!" Aphra flicked up the compartment and whirled around to face the scowling Twi'lek with a sheepish grin. "I was looking for the fresher, and I got curious. You know I'm an archaeologist, right?"

Syndulla's eyes were narrowed, and her lips were firmly set in a disapproving frown. "I am aware," she said coolly. "However, I don't see any reason why that pertains to you rifling through things that don't belong to you."

"Rifling through things that don't belong to me is  _literally_  my job description, Captain Syndulla," Aphra said innocently.

"Get out," Syndulla replied sharply, pointing with a shocking vehemence toward the hall. Aphra swallowed any smart remark she might have made to anyone else, and bowed her head as she quickly exited the empty cabin.

"I'm sorry," she said.  _Earnestly_. She really did feel bad! "Were they very close to you?"

A fresh, pained expression flickered over Syndulla's face as she folded her arms over her chest and hugged them tightly. Like perhaps it might protect her. She closed her eyes solemnly as she sighed.

"Who?" she asked quietly.

"The Jedi whose room this used to be."

Syndulla's eyes snapped open, and she looked at Aphra with a cool, vicious gaze. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Ouch. Aphra couldn't help but wince, dragging her hand through her hair and smiling tightly up at the ceiling. "Right…" she muttered. "You don't trust me. I get it. But hey, Captain, if it's any consolation… the Jedi aren't gone."

Perhaps Syndulla already knew this, because she did not react to Aphra's words. She merely watched her, her gaze one spike of anger short of being a glare, and she took a step back.

"Thank you for returning Sabine to us, Doctor," she said briskly. "I imagine you are very busy. I will have Rex escort you back to your ship."

* * *

Breath-taken was probably not the phrase he'd use to describe himself upon pulling up on Bespin. Starry eyed, maybe? He'd always loved the air— clouds in particular. He felt like he was floating inside a dream out here, pink capped mounds of fluff rolling past the  _Falcon's_  window. Luke couldn't help but lean in closer, enjoying the view even as they were hit by a stray bolt from the planet's security force.

"Lando Calrissian— I said  _Lando_ , okay? He's not expecting us, but tell him we're here!" Han seemed more annoyed than usual. Luke tilted his head.

"I wonder if maybe he doesn't want to see you," Luke joked. He was still a bit sore about what had happened earlier, but he was growing less and less bitter about it. He figured Han was sorry, and it wasn't like it was out of character for Han.

Chewie gave a sharp yowl, and Han's face drained suddenly, a brief cloud of fear passing over his eyes as they flickered up to Chewie's face. "That was years ago," he said steadily. "I'm sure he's forgotten about it."

"Oh, goodie," Luke said in a faux-cheery tone. "What did you do to our would-be savior, Han?"

"Listen…" Han's jaw clenched and unclenched, and he rolled his shoulders. "It's fine! It's fine. We're fine."

Luke sunk in his seat, and he did not sing " _liar_ " in a bright and lilting voice like he wanted to. He was a former senator, a former prince, and the child of senators and queens. And he was tired. All of this running was filling him with dread and despair. He could not think straight.

 _Everyone looks to me for support, papa,_  he thought to the long since passed Bail Organa,  _but who's going to support me? Leia, who chases shadows and whispers and fairy tales? Or Han, who doesn't know what he wants in life, and can't commit to anything? I have given everything I am to this Rebellion, but maybe that's not enough._

Truthfully, Luke doubted he had ever been enough. It was not like he could single-handedly take down the Empire. Even if he had an inkling of how to stall Darth Vader for a time, he understood that he could not  _stop_  the man. Not to mention the Emperor.

He was annoyed that Han had picked such a tenuous time to make a move on him. Luke needed a good nap, a warm blanket, and Leia by his side to tell him that Han was an idiot. Even if Luke already knew that, he liked hearing Leia say it. That sweet validation would do him some good right now.

Blessedly, they were cleared for landing at Cloud City. Luke blinked in awe at the single spire that pierced the clouds, and the hovering disc that held a floating city, like something out of a storybook, or a dream of a storybook.

"You look like you haven't seen a city before," Han said with a smirk.

"Not a city like this," Luke said dazedly.

Something that Luke rarely got to show in public was his genuine love for travel. New worlds fascinated him! They were so rich with their own history, so bound by their own rules and culture. This was a city in the sky! This was a world away from the cold, desolate flatlands of Hoth, and yet Luke had liked that planet too. In its own way. It had a certain neutrality to it, the barren ice flats and bitter winds. There was no good and evil on Hoth, no Light and Dark. There was merely the ice, and the ice bore no allegiance to anyone. He appreciated that simplicity.

They hesitantly stepped down the ramp after landing, hands on their weapons instinctively as Threepio bemoaned the lack of an escort. Luke hushed him.

Luke watched curiously as a man approached them from the other side of the landing pad. A cape swished behind him as he moved forward, sporting a sort of swagger similar to how Han's gait moved. Luke studied Han's face, noting how apprehensive he looked. It was about as apprehensive as Luke  _felt_ , but he was not prepared to jeopardize their good fortune at making it to a hospitable planet with the ship mostly intact.

"He's your friend," Luke observed.

Han shot him an irritated look. "Can you, like…" He grimaced. "Tone down that creepy Jedi trick? I get enough of it from Leia."

Luke pursed his lips, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm not a Jedi," he whispered.

"Uh huh."

The man on the landing strip, who was almost certainly Lando Calrissian, paused a few feet away from the edge of the  _Falcon_ 's ramp. Han stood stiffly, staring uncertainly at Lando as Lando squinted at him.

"Why," Lando said, his voice booming across the platform like a thundercrack, "you slimy, double-crossing, no good swindler! You've got a lot of guts coming here, after what you pulled."

Luke settled his hand on Han's arm, and whispered, "If he asks, I don't know you."

Han swatted him away with a dramatic eye-roll, and he turned his attention back to Lando, pointing to himself unassumingly and mouthing, "Me?"

Lando moved closer very slowly, and as he did so, Luke kept his blaster close. He had Obi-Wan Kenobi's lightsaber tucked beneath his shirt, and if it came to it, he would use it. There were other ships in the immediate vicinity that he figured they could make it out alive, though Han would be hard-pressed to abandon the  _Falcon_. Luke would have to make it up to him.

In the middle of Luke's rapid-fire escape plan, Lando burst into a delighted fit of laughter, and flung his arms around Han's shoulders. Luke gaped, confused but genuinely pleased to see Han smile sheepishly and return the hug.

Beside him, Threepio sighed in relief. "Well, he seems friendly."

"Thank the Force for that," Luke said.

Lando and Han were chatting rapidly, years of friendship rekindling before Luke's very eyes. He observed it with curiosity, wondering what type of man Lando was to let whatever Han had undoubtedly done to him slide.

"What have you done to my ship?" Lando asked, almost teasingly.

"Your ship?" Luke asked curiously.

Lando's eyes slid with an equal and mounting curiosity toward Luke's face. "Oh, hello. I'm Lando Calrissian, the administrator of this facility. And who do we have here?"

"Luke," he replied calmly.

A coy smirk appeared on his lips as he took a step toward him, taking Luke's hand and swinging it up to his lips smoothly.

Luke peered at the man, and he found himself shaking his head in disbelief. "I see why your friends," he told Han coolly, pulling his hand from Lando's and folding his arms across his chest with a frown.

"Oh, is that what we are?" Lando's smirk was very telling as he locked eyes with Han. They watched each other for a few moments, and Luke observed the exchange silently.

Ah. So that was it.

At least Lando wasn't as bad as Sana had been at first.

Luke listened to them silently, as Lando explained his involvement in Cloud City and how it seemed to flourish under his sharp eye. Han laughed at the idea that Lando had somehow bettered himself in the years since he had known him, but Luke wondered if Han merely felt a stab of insecurity, knowing he was probably not so different than he was when he had had that falling out with Lando.

Of course, Luke would never vocalize his theory. It wouldn't be worth the argument.

As they moved through the halls, Luke felt oddly at a loss. He paused and stood in the middle of the wide open hall, his head tilting from side to side. He realized what the problem was.

"Luke?" Han turned his head back to look at him worriedly. "What's up?"

"Have either of you seen Threepio?" Luke asked, worry knotting up his insides. "I feel like he was just here. Do you think he wandered off?"

Han's expression soured, and he faced forward again with a scoff. "Probably," he said. "You know how that old droid is, Luke, he's probably off lecturing some poor repairman about how he holds his tools. Don't worry about it."

"But…" Luke bit his lip. Han didn't understand, because Threepio was a nuisance to him, but Luke loved that droid. He was something of home, of his childhood, and Luke  _needed_  familiarity right now. Han wouldn't understand that, though. To him, Threepio was just an irritating droid who got in the way.

"The droid you were with?" Lando asked, tilting his head. "Is there something special about it?"

Luke wondered if he should say. His father had been pretty tight-lipped about the details, but when the time had come to send Luke off on his first trip on  _Tantive IV_ , he had watched the droids pass by fondly.

"Keep those two close," he had said softly.

Luke, all of seventeen and unnaturally thin due to bouts of illness that began occurring on and off since the Vader incident, had been entirely too curious. He had edged closer to his father, peering at Artoo and Threepio as they bickered all the way down the starkly white corridor. "Why?" he had asked.

Something had flickered in his father's face just then. He had sighed, and he had smiled briefly before smoothing back Luke's hair and lowering his lips to Luke's ear. Something he'd already half known, told to him absently by Sola Naberrie.

"He was my mother's," Luke said, his voice small and his mouth dry. His eyes scraped the ceiling and scoured the floor. He tipped his head over his shoulder and frowned. "Are you sure you didn't see him turn down some hallway? I should check."

"He's probably fine, kid," Han said gently.

"Your mother owned a protocol droid?" Lando studied him, his eyes glittering. "Did she work in a communication field?"

"Uh…" Luke grimaced. "She… I don't know. I guess. Maybe."

"You don't know what your own mother did for a living?"

Luke blinked rapidly as he turned to face Lando. He found himself vaguely hurt. "She died when I was born," he said. "My adoptive father kept the droid."

Han looked alarmed at that. Had he not known? Luke could have sworn it must have come up before. He had told Leia, certainly, but… maybe Han had just missed it.

Lando, to his credit, looked apologetic. He bowed his head respectfully, and said in a soft voice, "My condolences. That was rude of me."

"Oh, it's…" Luke couldn't help a twinge of familiar sorrow in his chest, the longing and desolation he had felt during the duration of his stay on Naboo flooding back. He rubbed his forehead, and smiled tightly. "It's fine. I didn't know her at all, and my other mother— the one who adopted me— was very kind. I like having Threepio around, though. He's comforting."

"That's one word for it," Han said flatly.

Lando's eyes were completely sympathetic. Luke's feeling of cold dread was subsiding, and he felt with a certainty that this was not a bad man. Still, though, there was a danger here. It would be best if they left as soon as they could manage.

"How old are you?" Lando asked curiously.

"Twenty two."

Lando nodded, as though this made perfect sense. "A Clone Wars orphan, then," he observed.

Luke could only nod, his thoughts scrambled and bitter.  _I wish I was an orphan,_  he longed to say.

But there was no point in dwelling on it. Vader was Luke's father, and he had accepted that a long time ago.

* * *

Her X-Wing was just about loaded up, and she was now guiltily ignoring Yoda's chiding voice. That she could not leave. That she had to complete her training. He didn't know what she had seen, and even if he had, all  _his_  friends were gone already! It wasn't fair that he expected her to wait and wallow on this swampy old rock like him.

"Sense your bitterness, I do," Yoda murmured.

Leia flung her rucksack into the back of her ship, her jaw tight as Artoo's dome swiveled between them. He gave a low, confused whistle.

"I'm sorry, Master," Leia said, her voice tight. "I'm sorry I'm not what you wanted me to be. I'm not a perfect student— Ben could have told you that. But I'm  _not_  sorry that I'm going to help my friends."

"Nothing did those lessons teach you," Yoda observed. He sounded sad. Sad enough that Leia slumped, and she turned to face him with desperate eyes.

"I understand why you're upset with me," she told him gently. "I know what I am giving up by leaving this place. By leaving you. If you don't want me to come back, I won't."

Yoda closed his eyes. Clearly he was torn between his wealth of wisdom, and the arduous task of patience.

"A dangerous time, it is, for you to leave," Yoda observed. "On the precipice of change, you are. Return the same as you left, you will not."

"I'll take that as an invitation to return," Leia said quietly.

Yoda did not respond immediately, and Leia couldn't help but feel even more guilty about leaving him. She hated goodbyes, particularly when they were on a sour note. But she was too stubborn to admit that she was wrong, and Yoda was equally adamant, so alas. They were at a standstill.

Leia stepped closer to him. She knelt carefully beside him, and found herself peering into his face desperately. "Master, I  _have_  to go. I have to save them. Being a Jedi is not my only responsibility. I have the Rebellion too. Training can wait."

"Do not be so sure, little one."

Whatever thoughts or feelings she had held within her in that moment, they were dispersed along her mind. She held nothing within her now but shock and delight as she whirled around, her eyes finding the source of the voice and growing wider and wider until they were struck with tears.

"Ben…" she said breathlessly.

She staggered to her feet, kicking up dirt as she went, and she stumbled toward him. He was so close, and yet she realized quickly that he was not there— not  _truly_. So her arms drooped in midair, and she stopped before him with her feet tripping over one another, reeling back awkwardly. The hug that had been meant for him died in the space between them.

He was translucent and luminescent, casting off a faint blue glow like he was a hologram. She could not see the white of his hair or the washed out brown of his robes. His eyes were only blue because the rest of him was. It was like seeing an afterimage. Like the sight of him was burned into the back of her eyelids.

Ben Kenobi was a ghost.

Ghosts did not give nor receive hugs.

To his credit, he seemed acutely aware of this fact, and his eyes drooped sadly down at her face. "Oh," he said quietly, "Leia… I'm sorry things turned out this way."

She could not find it in her to respond readily. Her heart was in her throat, and she knew her voice would break if she tried to speak.

Ben composed himself quickly, and she couldn't help but wince at his stern tone. "However, you must understand that leaving now will be absolutely detrimental to your training."

That stung like the back of his hand to her cheek. She raised her eyes to him, hot tears burning her eyes as she swallowed back a scream, and said icily, "Like how your death was?"

For a moment, Ben stood before her with an open mouth and widening eyes. Regret washed over his face, and he bowed his head low.

"As I said," he murmured, "I am sorry things turned out as they did. But we cannot change the past."

"No," Leia said bitterly, "but that's not really my fault, or my problem. You died, Ben. You're  _dead_. I can't pretend like that didn't affect me, or my training, even when Ahsoka tried to fill in the gap. She's gone too, you know."

"Yes. We spoke about this."

Leia remembered. She also remembered that Ben seemed to know exactly where she was, and refused to tell Leia. Probably for this reason.

"Then you understand why I have to go!" Leia shook her head furiously. "I'm not going to argue about this with you, Ben. Luke and Han are my best friends! I can't let them die."

"You don't know they will die," Ben sighed.

"I don't care!" Leia's eyes flickered toward Ben's face, and she straightened up. "I don't care if I'm wrong, and they're fine when I find them. Better I go and be sure than  _not_  go and be down two friends."

Ben exchanged a brief, worried glance with Yoda, and Leia found herself standing between her two Jedi masters, feeling like she had missed a cruel inside joke.

"What?" she demanded, planting her hands on her hips and scowling. "What is it?"

She had lived her whole life feeling like something had come loose inside her heart and fell way into the stars the moment she had arrived on Tatooine. Something was  _missing._  Somehow, with all that had been happening with the Rebellion lately, she'd forgotten about it. But now that feeling was back, and it was raw and painful like nothing else.

"Leia," Ben said, his voice strained, "please. I don't want to lose you too."

There was no need to mention who the "too" was. The message was clear.

"You won't," Leia said softly.

"Leia…" Ben closed his eyes, and he shook his head furiously. "No. You do not know that."

"I don't," she admitted. "But, Ben, you have to trust me. You have to look at me right now, and see that I am not Vader. I am not even my father. I won't Fall, and I won't die. Have faith in me, Ben, please."

She could tell that for whatever reason, this request was hard for him to accept. Maybe he had just lost too much. Maybe he could not see that she was so much more than a reflection of the people he loved and lost. Maybe it was time for her to accept that Ben, no matter how much she loved him, would never admit to her what he really felt.

Ben took a deep breath, which Leia found odd, since he clearly did not need to breathe, and he looked at her steadily. "Be  _careful_ ," he whispered, his voice soft and his eyes softer. "Do not fall for cheap tricks, and— and for the sake of the Force, Leia, know your limits. You are strong, and you are clever, but knowing when to retreat is what will keep you alive. Understand?"

"Yes, Ben." Leia nodded firmly, relieved that he had given in. "Thank you. Thank you for understanding."

To his credit, he did not look as disappointed as she knew he felt. He merely watched her, his old face growing wearier and wearier, and she realized how badly the desert had treated him. When they had first met he had still had the last dregs of his youth hanging about his face, visible wrinkles being only frown lines, crow's feet, and the heavy bags that creased beneath his eyes. His beard had been peppered gray, but she had seen the traces of auburn hair bleached and dried out by the desert suns. By the time he had died, Tatooine had taken the last of his youth and turned him into an elderly man. Which she knew he was not. Not really.

She whirled around to face Yoda, hoping that her decision had not entirely fractured their relationship. For all the little creature's faults, she did appreciate his teachings. Sometimes. Well, when he was speaking to her straight, and not in riddles.

"Did you think he'd convince me to stay?" she asked him, tilting her head at the somber expression the old little gremlin wore. He was eyeing Ben oddly, his eyelids heavy and his lips pursed.

"Hoped, I had."

Leia could only smile vainly, her eyes flickering fondly back toward Ben's face. He looked forlorn, and maybe even a bit rueful. But when he met her eye, his gaze softened, and he smiled.

"Ben loves me," she declared, folding her arms across her chest and lifting her chin high. "All he's ever wanted in my whole  _life_  is for me to be happy. He knows me well enough to understand that fighting me on the topic of saving my friends is absolutely pointless."

Yoda closed his eyes. A slow, small chuckle passed through his lips as he shook his head. "A lesson learned, I'm sure," he said, his words passing over her head.

Behind her, Ben sighed. "She speaks the truth," he said gently. "If we cannot trust Leia to fight on her own, then how can we trust her to build a new Order? That is what you want, isn't it?"

"It is."

"But it is not what she wants."

Leia turned to face him with wide eyes and an open mouth. She tried to think of something to say, but she couldn't find the words. Her heart ached, suddenly, as she recalled how he died. How she had tried to save him, how he had very much let himself be cut down in front of her.  _Why_? It did not make any sense!

Yoda's eyes slid to her face bemusedly. Leia stood an uncomfortable silence, shame and sheepishness toying within her heart. She bowed her head, loose strands of unruly brown hair falling into her face. She had strung it all up in a makeshift braid, a single plait loosely wrapped at the base of her neck. Wisps of hair fell loose around her cheeks.

"Say this, you did not," Yoda murmured.

"It's not my choice," Leia whispered. She straightened up, inhaling deeply and looking at Yoda directly. "It doesn't matter. It's not a  _choice_ , Master. It's my duty. As a Jedi, as possibly the last Jedi in the whole galaxy, I will create a new Order. Of course…" She smirked just then, a crooked twist of her lips that slipped onto her face effortlessly. "I'm going to do it my way. No fear of attachments, no stealing children away from their homes and cultures."

"Become a Jedi Knight first, you must," Yoda said dryly.

"Well," Leia replied, her voice just as dry and just as cool, "when I come back, we'll see to that. Won't we, Master?"

Yoda  _humph_ ed, leaning heavily on his cane as he watched her. She knew what she was doing. She knew the risk.

She just didn't care.

In a last, somewhat guilty attempt to mend their shaky bond, Leia offered Yoda a small smile. "I will return to finish my training," she said softly. "And no matter what happens, I will not die, and I will not Fall. Please trust me in this, Master."

It was not much, her words, her smile, her hopeful gaze, but she hoped it would be enough. That when she saw Yoda again, there was no harsh feelings, and they could continue where they had left off.

Leaving was always hard. Coming back was always harder. Because things were never the same.

She could recall the sight of her childhood home, a burned out husk crumbling in the desert, and her mouth was dry.

Leia was not a liar. She did not intend to go back on this promise.

It was only really in the loneliness of space that she came to terms with one true reason why she had left, aside from the obvious.

She wanted to prove them wrong. She  _needed_  to prove them wrong.

* * *

As lovely as Cloud City was, Luke could not shake the uneasiness that plagued him. That had plagued him since he arrived, and even before then. He was lost in his own thoughts consistently losing track of sentences, breaking off his own words in half-formed, half-coherent observations. When he was addressed, it took time for his name to be spoken before he responded.

Now was no different.

"Han!" Luke found himself blinking up at the man bemusedly. He had been sitting on the floor in the spacious white room Lando had given them, neither meditating nor sleeping, but not fully awake either. The room had wide windows that overlooked the incredible, impossible city, and it had caught his attention for longer than was probably normal.

When they had arrived, Luke had been hard pressed to leave the window at all, until he had been brought new clothes. He'd spent an even more inordinate amount of time examining the silver silk shirt, a flowy garment that Luke imagined was meant for someone with even more of a flair for the dramatic than himself. The trousers were black, and the adorning cape was red as blood. Luke had spent too much time staring at it, thumbing the velvet carefully before tracing the silver vines embroidered tentatively along the fringes.

Han looked down at him with eyes that suggested that Luke had somehow produced a second head in all of his daydreaming. His eyes flickered away, and he sucked in a deep breath before shrugging.

"Thought I really lost you there, kid," he admitted. Luke stood up and smiled sheepishly, his hand scraping the back of his neck. "Anyway, I came to tell you the ship's almost finished. We'll be out of here in no time, and then we can deal with your princess nonsense."

"Sabine Wren is not a princess," Luke said absently. "You've met her, Han. Did she seem like a princess to you?"

"Ain't she some sort of nobility though?" Han wrinkled his nose. "It's all the same."

"She could kill you with a spray can," Luke told him curtly. "Don't insult her."

"I wasn't!"

Luke rolled his eyes. He turned away sharply and tucked his arms close to his chest. They had been there a few hours, and the time was weighing harshly on his mind. It was not only the mission the rescue Sabine, which he had left in the hands of the less than competent Doctor Aphra, but also the Rebellion at large. He usually weighed in on matters of importance, like finding a new base, and realizing the decision would be made without him was troubling.

Not to mention he knew nothing of what Leia was doing. He hoped she was okay.

"Please…" Han exhaled sharply, and Luke shot him a cool glance. "Please don't tell me you're still mad. I apologized!"

"I'm not still angry with you," Luke said with a heavy sigh. "Bitter, maybe, but not angry. I don't have the energy to stay angry for long."

"Uh… lucky me?"

"Hardly." Luke fixed his eyes on Han's face stolidly, and he lifted his chin high. "Han, you know me well. We've been friends for three years. Why do you think I have never once sought any sort of companionship beyond friendship with anyone?"

That made Han grimace, as though he was remembering his cruel words about Ezra Bridger. He decidedly did not reply, and instead averted his eyes.

Luke decided to take that as an invitation.

"I don't  _like_  romance," he said, his face growing uncomfortably warm as he forced himself to admit it. "I… It's too much for me to deal with. I have too much to deal with already! Why do I have to bother with something so trivial, when I have a war to win? An entire galaxy to rebuild? It's not that I don't want to be with anyone— at least, I don't think it is, not really. It's just that I don't have the time, and I don't see the point. It's too exhausting."

"Okay…" Han seemed a little uncomfortable too, like he felt like this was not something he needed to hear. When it clearly was. "Sorry, I just… really though? Exhausting? Can't you let yourself have a little fun, Luke?"

"Fun?" Luke quirked an eyebrow. "Was your little stunt on the  _Falcon_  your idea of fun? Because I'm not laughing."

"I meant generally." Han winced a little. "I understand now how the way I went about it may be considered… unfair."

"Not the word I'd use, but go on."

"You can have fun with people without getting entangled in a heavy relationship," Han said bluntly. "It's been done. It's natural."

"You seem to have a fundamental misunderstanding of me, as a person who exists, so let me just…" Luke couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Clear this up right, now. Okay? I could never have a casual relationship like that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not like you!" Luke snapped. "I don't want to do things just for the thrill, and then dump the excess weight when things get too serious! That's a terrible thing to do, and I get attached to anything with a pulse that won't try to kill me immediately, so you can understand why I'm wary of entering into something serious like a relationship!"

"Oh," Han said with a tight grimace. "Yeah, that's true. You wanted to save a mynock. You're crazy, kid."

"Uh huh." Luke shook his head dully. "Anyway, the bottom line is that if I ever get romantically involved with  _anyone_  it is going to be in a republic that I built. I just don't have the time or energy right now. It's not really about Ezra, either, though I wish all of you would stop bringing him up like we were intimate in some sort of way. It wasn't like that at all."

"That's not how people make it sound," Han mumbled, looking irritated. "And the way you act when anyone even mentions him… can you blame me?"

Luke pressed his lips together thinly. Yes. He  _hated_  talking about Ezra Bridger. No one could really quite understand why except for the  _Ghost_  crew. Or at least what remained of them. It hurt that he still did not know what had happened to Ezra and Kanan so very long ago.

"I had a crush on Ezra," Luke admitted, chewing on the inside of his lip and wincing. "I did. I'll admit that. But that was all! It was a crush. His friendship was the most important thing to me, and that's why I never thought to do anything about it. Friendships are so easily broken, Han, and I… I was a prince. He was going to be a Jedi. I thought we'd have time to sort it out later, if I still had feelings for him when I got older. But now I'm older, and Ezra is gone."

Han shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. His gaze was set on the floor.

"Do… do you?" He blinked down at Luke, who could only stare at him dully. "Do you still have feelings for him?"

"He's dead, Han," Luke said coolly. "What do you think?"

"Yeesh!" Han threw his hands into the air in defense. "No need to be so snippy. I was just asking."

"Ask me again, and I will never step foot on the  _Falcon_  again."

"What?" Han seemed truly surprised, and taken aback at that. "You're joking. Not even to get home?"

"I'll get a ship from Lando."

"Ha!" Han rolled his eyes, and his head followed it with a slight lag. "Good luck with that."

"Can we please talk about something else?" Luke said suddenly. "I'm so tired of this conversation! Is it my forgiveness you're after, Han? Because if that's really all, then fine. I forgive you. Are you happy?"

Han's dark eyes were cast down at his feet, and he frowned deeply. "No," he admitted. "Not really."

"Then I can't help you."

Though Luke had a natural talent for politics, he really did hate resorting to diplomacy among friends. He hated knowing that he could twist words to his advantage, that any fight with words  _or_  fists was a fight in his favor. He did not like fighting. He had skill in it, in the art of debate and the art of trading blows, but he took no joy in it. It was like having a particularly cruel talent to harm, and Luke hated hurting people.

He supposed he had the wrong job for his gentle heart.

 

"What do you want me to do?" Han asked him abruptly. "How can I make this up to you? I said I'm sorry, and I meant it! I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," Luke said quietly, rubbing his eyes and looking up at the ceiling. "That's the problem. You didn't realize how cruel your actions were until I pointed it out. Han, promise me when you try to win Leia over, you won't do it like  _that_."

"No problem," Han said dryly, "because I'm never gonna win her over."

"Wow," Luke said, closing his eyes so Han did not seem them roll. "Where's that confidence you showed me back on the ship? If you can pin me to a wall and kiss me, you can tell Leia you love her. Really, Han. It's not that hard."

"Maybe not for you!" Han scowled. "You're a prince! A senator! You've faced Darth Vader, and— and that Tarkin guy! You're not scared of anything."

Luke blinked rapidly, peering at Han with a newfound curiosity and a hint of sadness. Did he really think that highly of Luke? He'd never considered it before, because Han was so biting and aloof, but now that he thought about it, Han tended to respect Luke a bit more than the rest of the Rebel Alliance. It was usually Luke who gave him his orders, and Luke who received him when he returned from a mission.

"That's not true," Luke said softly. He looked out toward the wide windows, salmon colored clouds drifting past the high peaks of close and distant buildings. When he had first begun staring off into the city, daydreaming easily, he thought of Alderaan. Something about this place, no matter how mystical and man-made it was, reminded him of home. Not in the way that Naboo reminded him of home, but more in the ambiance set by the drifting clouds and the high arching peaks. "I'm scared all the time. I'm scared right now."

"Aw," Han scoffed, "bantha shit."

Luke's eyes slid to Han's silently. He stared at him, and Han swallowed hard. It wasn't like Luke didn't make his fear apparent when he was frightened. He was very plain about his feelings when he was around people he trusted, and fear was not so foreign to him.

"Leia is the fearless one," he thought aloud, turning his eyes back toward the window and stepping toward it hesitantly. "I've never met anyone like her. She says what she thinks, and she thinks what she feels, and she doesn't care about the consequences. And she's so  _good_. She's such a good person."

"Yeah…" The fondness in Han's voice was clear, but there was a hint of hesitance. "Leia's… she's like a goddamn sun. You know?"

"Yes," Luke said, turning to face Han with a wicked grin. "I know. Hard to look at, hard to hold onto, but also hard to live without. Right?"

"Ah, man." Han smiled, and he rubbed his head sheepishly. "You and your wax poetics. See, you'd be better for her. You both are so good, you deserve each other."

"Me and Leia?" Luke couldn't help but sound utterly shocked and a bit unnerved. "I mean… it's a sweet thought, but neither of our hearts would be in it."

"You really never thought of it before?" Han asked curiously.

"No." Luke studied Han, who shot him a look of disbelief. "I mean, maybe in passing, yeah, but… Han, do you really not believe me when I say that romance does not consume my every waking thought? I have better things to do, and more important things to worry about."

"Well, that's boring," Han muttered.

Luke smiled at him amusedly, and he shook his head. "Han," he said, folding his arms across his chest and allowing his cape to fold over him like an embrace. "Something's wrong. I've got a really bad feeling, and I can't shake it."

"We'll be outta here soon," Han told him, looking as though he wanted to pat Luke on the shoulder, but deciding against it. "By the way… the cape? Really?"

"I like it," Luke said defensively.

"Well, it's great if you like gaudy," Han said, wrinkling his nose. "You look like a prince, I'll give you that."

"That's definitely not a compliment, and I'm offended."

Han laughed at that, and Luke felt suddenly very sure that this was something they would move past. They were still friends, despite everything. That was nice to know.

The door slid open suddenly, and both Han and Luke turned to peer at Chewbacca as he came charging in, carrying an assortment of golden limbs, and a familiar looking droid.

"Threepio!" Luke cried, horror and grief bleeding into his tone as he darted up to Chewie's side, taking a leg and gaping at the sight of his poor droid dismembered. "Where was he? How did this happen?"

Chewie let out a small, mournful yowl, and Han frowned deeply.

"What?" Han scratched his head. "A junk pile? Really? Well, he'll be fine, won't he? It's not like he's been shot to bits, or anything. Looks fixable."

Luke was already hastily pulling parts together, throwing himself to his knees at the small table and connecting joints like puzzle pieces. There was something growing inside him, that sense of dread and knot of uneasiness turning into a great black hole of terror and unbidden anxiety. He saw his fingers shaking as he tried to piece Threepio's leg back together.

"Hey, hey, Luke," Han gasped, kneeling beside him. "Lando's got people. He'll have the old boy fixed in no time, you'll see."

"I don't want Lando's people to fix him," Luke said, his voice thin. " _I_  can fix him. He's my droid. I should have paid more attention to him. I turned him off in the  _Falcon_ , and I shouldn't have. That wasn't right."

"What?" Han looked down at him, puzzled. "Oh, come on. This isn't your fault! Goldie just stumbled into the wrong room, I'll bet. You know how he is."

Luke didn't answer. He didn't like the way these circuits looked, like they'd been pried apart without much care. He might need to replace them, and he didn't have the time or resources for that. Worst of all, as he began to thread the circuits back through the gold plating, his hands trembled. He felt vaguely nauseous.

"Luke!" Han snatched his wrist and turned him sharply so he would look up at him. The way he held his hand was not the same as it had been on the  _Falcon_ — there was no tenderness or underlying motive to how he gripped Luke's wrist and stared at him wildly. "It's okay. He'll be okay."

He realized, with a dawning horror and a bit of shame, that he had started crying. He shook his head mutely, annoyed at himself for being wholly incapable of controlling his more unsavory emotions. There was no time for this. He closed his eyes, and he took a deep breath.

"I…" He drew back, prying his wrist from Han's hand easily and swiping his cheeks. "It's just… I never get to feel close to my mother. I never knew her, and… and Threepio doesn't remember her, but it's all I've got. Just a couple of old droids, and a stupid hologram. I don't even look like her. It's not fair."

Han blinked down at him, clearly surprised by this admission. "Your mom? That's really what this is about?"

Luke looked down at his lap, his cheeks red and his brow furrowed. "It's not fair," he repeated softly. "My mother— both my birth mother and my Alderaanian mother, they were so smart and kind and brave. I've always tried to emulate them, but I've done such a lousy job so far. I got Alderaan destroyed. I could have stopped it, but I didn't. Because I was scared. And now I've gone and let my mother's droid get destroyed!" Luke pushed the table furiously, watching it teeter on its legs for a moment before settling back down.

"Luke," Han said very quietly. Very slowly. He exchanged a worried look with Chewie. "Alderaan… was not your fault. Have you really been blaming yourself this whole time?"

"It is my fault," he murmured.

"No it's not! Don't be an idiot."

Luke looked into Han's eyes, and he shook his head. "Han," he said, his voice small and thin and strained. "Han, I've done an awful thing."

"What?" Han rolled his eyes. "Shut up. You have not."

"I let them destroy Alderaan," he said faintly. "I had the ability to shift the Vader's attention off my home, and I didn't do it because I did not want to face the consequences. I couldn't do it. It felt like a betrayal, to say it out loud, especially back then. When my father and mother were still alive, it was like… like I was giving up everything they gave me. And if I had told the truth then, I would have been. I didn't  _want_  to give up everything, Han."

"O… kay…?" Han winced, and he stood up. He towered over Luke for a moment, his expression grim. "You're telling me, basically, that you had a secret that could have saved Alderaan, but you didn't want the Empire to find out, so you hid it. Is it the Force?"

"No," Luke said bitterly. "Vader already knew about that. He's the one who told me I was Force sensitive."

"Wha…?" Han groaned, and he rubbed his forehead. "This is a little too much, kid. But if it makes you feel any better, I don't think that it's your fault."

"You don't know that."

"Shut up and listen to me," Han said sharply. "You said it yourself, they were gonna blow up Alderaan regardless of what you told them. Maybe they would have done it even if you weren't on that battle station. Who knows, Luke. But it was not your fault, so quit blaming yourself."

Once more the door slid open, and Luke pushed himself shakily to his feet, making another swipe at his ruddy face to rid himself of excess tears. Lando stopped mid-step, his warm, dark eyes swiveling around the room, taking in the dismembered droid, the somber looking Wookiee, the clearly frustrated smuggler, and the teary eyed prince.

He took a step back and held up his hands. "I'm interrupting," he said apologetically.

"No," Luke choked out just as Han said, "Ya think?"

Exhaling through his teeth, Luke relaxed his shoulders and schooled his expression. "Please come in, Lando," he said politely.

Lando glanced between them uncertainly, but he did start forward, his strut making up for his hesitant expression. "That cloak looks absolutely stunning on you," he stated with an unabashed grin splitting his face as he took in Luke's new outfit. "I wasn't sure if red would be your color— all your features are so pale, I thought it might wash you out. But my, you are a sight. You truly belong here among the clouds."

Luke was unused to such compliments, and he looked down at his feet, his face growing significantly warmer. Flattery. It had never done him any good, not in the Senate, and certainly not here.

"Red's a sacred color on Naboo," he said offhandedly, raising his eyes and meeting Lando's smile.

Both Han and Lando looked surprised. Han because of the fondness in Luke's tone, and Lando because of the mention of the Emperor's home.

"Is that where you're from?" Lando asked, still smiling. "Naboo?"

"Yes," Luke lied easily.

"Oh, isn't it absolutely lovely there?" Lando shook his head, an earnest laugh falling from his lips. "It is such a culturally enriched planet, I'm almost envious. You have so many songs."

"That's true," Luke said fondly. He had to agree with Lando on every account. Naboo  _was_  lovely, and a cultural goldmine. He had spent enough time with Ryoo to know that. "We have many beautiful songs. Once my cousin told me I should move to Theed and become a bard."

Han said nothing as he observed this exchange, though his eyebrow did shoot up at that. He had not met Pooja, but he had briefly crossed paths with Ryoo the last time he had come with them to visit Leia's aunt and uncle. They had not gotten along.

"Are you musically inclined?" There was a glint in Lando's eye that Luke did not like. "Oh, sing for us!"

"I…" Luke took a step back, his eyes wide. "I'm not much of a singer."

"Oh, try, won't you?" Lando winked at him. "I could try to find an instrument for you. What do you play?"

"A… a viol," he admitted.

Lando grinned at him, and he turned and disappeared. A fresh wave of dread came over him, though it was different from the foreboding haunt that had plagued him since they had gotten to Cloud City.

"Oh no," Luke murmured.

"Lando does love his music," Han sighed, rubbing his cheek absently. "Any of the finer things in life, really. Lando loves it all. Music, art, drink, girls. Stuff that makes you seem richer than you are."

"Funny," Luke said, "he seemed to be interested in culture, not vanity."

"Culture is vanity," Han said. "Just of a different nature."

"You clearly do not love your home," Luke said coldly.

"Of course I love Corellia," he said, his defense weakened by his shock. "I just think that culture is a big ol' mask. What's there to know about Corellian culture? We're all a bunch of spacers looking out for ourselves."

"Don't philosophize so much," Luke told him curtly. "It doesn't suit you."

That shut him up.

Lando returned with a surprisingly beautiful viol, made of polished wood that was such a rich brown it almost glinted red. The strings were synthetic, and it was a bit more rustic than the instrument he had once played in a cantina in Theed, but also more reminiscent of the old, somber thing his father had once played for him.

Luke took it gladly, examining it with a faint smile. "This is an antique," he said softly.

"You noticed?" Lando's eyebrows arched, and he looked rather pleased with himself. "Bartered it off an old Zygerrian on Pheryon a few years back. Now, don't hold me to it, but if I'm not mistaken those markings on the sides…"

"Birrenese," Luke observed, tracing the decorative enamel on the sides, a smooth design of roses. He turned the viol onto its back, and he inhaled sharply. The roses had melted into an assortment of grapevines, all encircling a white enameled bird. "No. Alderaanian."

"You  _are_  good," Lando said, his grin bright and true. "Play it. Go on!"

"Ah…" Luke smiled sheepishly. "Are you sure? I haven't played in years."

"Oh, it'd be a real treat!" Lando swatted Han's chest. "Tell him that it'd be a treat. I bet he's wonderful."

"Well, it'd be a sight, that's for sure," Han said, smirking at Luke.

That irritated him. Did Han think he'd been lying about being able to play? Obviously he was not. So Luke took the bow from Lando and set his cheek upon the curved rest. He held the neck of the instrument loosely as he began to pluck at the strings carefully. He counted the beats where the drums would start, his eyes fluttering closed as he laid the bow onto the strings and slid it down and up, a strange shuddering breath of a melody humming. His arm moved slowly, gliding over each note with care. A somber tune fell from between flax and synthetic strings, the vibrations growing faster as he flicked his wrist.

" _Away she drifts,_ " Lando sang suddenly, his voice surprisingly soft, " _our fair queen. Sweetly she smiles in fair forever dreams. Soft petals fall slowly, and the days grow so lonely, without the sweet smile of our fair queen._ "

Luke knew this part of the song, where it grew a bit raucous, as more instruments joined into the fray. More players of strings and bows, of brass flutes and horns, some scratchy thrumming instrument, and a myriad of drums.

" _Sweet are the young dreams, the bloody and the blessed, erected by the young queen. Sweet and fair, a force immovable, she made mystic might and godly visions seem provable. Now we wake to blood, no blessings, soft petals in our eyes, and we do our silent confessing with mouths full with lies. Speak out for the wretched, little queen, sweet and fair! Speak out, speak out, speak out once more, if you dare._ "

And then the song drew into its melancholy finish, a slow rhythm of movement upon the strings that gathered little resistance from Lando's voice.

" _She speaks no more, our little queen whose voice was so sweet, whose face was so fair,_ " he sang quietly," _now she weeps alone in shame, with river flowers in her hair._ "

Luke lifted the bow, and he lowered the viol onto the table. He was crying again.

"Damn it, Lando!" Han smacked his old friend on the shoulder. "Why'd you have to go and steal the spotlight?"

Luke laughed, wiping his eyes hastily. "I can't believe you knew the words," Luke gasped, ignoring Han. "Most people on Naboo don't sing it, because it's a little…"

"Treasonous?" Lando offered grimly.

"Yeah." Luke tilted his head. "Where did you learn it?"

"You know how many cantinas me and this old boy used to frequent?" Lando clapped Han on his shoulder, and he leaned into him with a warm smile. "I picked it up on Naboo at one point or another. They certainly did love that Queen Amidala."

Han's eyebrows knitted together, a touch of recognition gleaming in his eyes, but it seemed the name only confused him. Luke did not push it.

"She…" Luke tried to sound less heartbroken. "She was beloved. Yes."

Han studied him curiously. It was then that Luke understood that he was not only very charming, but also very smart. Smart the same way Han was, street wise and cunning, but also smart as Luke was. He was eager to learn things, if they interested him, probably to sweet talk someone else down the road. But Luke appreciated it nonetheless.

"Was there a reason you came in here?" Han asked suddenly, glancing at Lando with a frown. "You sure get distracted easily."

"You know me," Lando laughed. He suddenly looked very sad. It was a brief flicker of sorrow as his eyes roved over Han, and then flashed to Luke. His smile returned, but it did not reach his eyes. "Allow me to treat you both to dinner!"

"We couldn't," Luke said weakly.

"We absolutely will," Han said, ignoring Luke.

"Good!" Lando clapped his hands together as Chewie offered an inquisitive yowl. "You're all invited, of course."

"Thank you…" Luke looked back at the viol on the table sadly.

Perhaps he knew in his heart that he was never going to see it again.

The feeling of absolute dread took root once more in the hallway. Luke was quiet as he watched his feet, bile clawing up the back of his throat. Something was wrong. Something was here. Something was  _coming_. He wanted to scream, to tear out all his hair and leap out the nearest window. His skin was crawling. 

"Han," Luke whispered, "how long until the ship is ready?"

"Just a little while more," Han whispered back. "Why?"

Luke eyed the back of Lando's cloak. He pulled Han a little closer, and whispered as low as he could, "How much do you trust him?"

Han jerked back and shot Luke an alarmed look. "What?" he hissed. "You were just singing with the guy, and now you don't trust him? I mean, can't blame you, but still…"

"It's not… him… exactly…" Luke winced. "I don't know. I can't place it. But we have to go soon, Han. Something bad is going to happen if we don't."

"You guys okay?" Lando called.

Han and Luke exchanged knowing glances before turning back to face Lando. "No problem," Han said, strolling up beside Lando. He began to ask about how Lando managed to escape Imperial influence, and Lando smiled easily, and explained hastily.

Luke couldn't understand why he felt like this. He wanted to claw at his head, pry open his skull, and scramble his brain with his fingers. Maybe then this would stop.

"It sounds like you have no love of the Empire," Luke said absently as Lando concluded his explanation. It was hasty. Luke didn't believe it much, but he had not seen a single Stormtrooper since they had arrived. And Lando… Lando was not a bad person. Luke was very good at these things. He could sense that Lando was troubled, but ultimately good. That was what mattered.

"Well, they're certainly bad for business." Lando offered Luke a thin smile. Luke did not return it.

"Were you always going to betray us?" he blurted out.

Han's head snapped in his direction, his eyes wide. They had stopped outside a pair of wide white double doors, and Luke suddenly could not breathe correctly. His vision was growing bleary. His ears rung.

"What?" Lando asked, alarm ringing in his voice. "What do you mean?"

Luke turned slowly, looking him in the eye and smiling dazedly. "I don't blame you," he said softly. "It's not a crime to protect yourself. I just wish you hadn't pretended to be so kind to us, when you knew this would happen. It's awfully cruel."

"What do you mean?" Han asked Luke sharply. When Luke did not answer, he rounded on Lando, his eyes ablaze. "What does he mean?"

Lando's expression softened, and guilt trickled through it like water on leaves. "I'm sorry," he said in defeat as the doors slid open. "I had no choice."

Luke couldn't look up. He wouldn't look up. If he looked up, it would all be over. He tasted bile at the back of his tongue.

 _My mind is a mountain, I am a mountain, nothing can get in_.

He had to be brave now. Like his mother. His mothers.

He only looked up when he heard a blaster shot go off. He stumbled into the room, pushing Han's gun arm aside and shoving him toward Lando.

The blaster flew through the air. Luke followed it with his eyes and watched it fall into the dark fist of a masked figure at the end of a long table.

That feeling he had been trying to quell since he had arrived became all too clear.

Darth Vader had been here all along. He had been shielding his presence from Luke.

Luke stood, feeling wobbly and small, just as he had when he had been eleven years old, cowering in the shadows as Darth Vader had appeared from the depths of a great void and whisked him away without warning.

But Luke was not eleven. He was not fifteen. He was not nineteen. He was twenty two years old, and he had long since accepted the truth of the man behind that mask.

So he lifted his chin high, and he stepped forward.

"Hello, Lord Vader," he said. "It has been awhile, hasn't it?"


	7. nothing to lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! sorry for the delay, but unfortunately you're in for a much longer one. i finished this chapter about an hour ago, and have not written anything else because school has consumed my whole life. however, i will get working on the next chapter as soon as i get the time! this story is almost over anyway, and then i'll probably just roll right into return of the jedi.
> 
> on a different note i've been planning this chapter for months. like, months and months and months. i hope it lives up!

The doors slid shut behind them, and Luke understood that they were trapped. He unhooked his cape and rested it on a chair, feeling a bit claustrophobic with it on. Vader watched him as he leaned forward, laying his palms flat on the table, and stared right into his helmet.

"What?" Luke asked him cheekily. "No hello? No inquiry about how I've been the past few years? Well, Lord Vader, I'll tell you. Since you destroyed my planet and kidnapped a close friend, I have wanted nothing more than to look into your face and tell you that I hate you."

"Hate," Vader said, "is a tool, Organa. Perhaps you mean to use it?"

Luke laughed. He waggled his finger at Vader, and he looked up at the ceiling forlornly. "That's funny," he said absently. "Everyone says you're a humorless machine, but they're wrong. You're very funny, in a morbid sort of way."

Vader did not answer.

"Come on, Luke," Han said in a tight voice. "Don't antagonize him."

"Lando," Luke called over his shoulder. "Whatever happens, could you keep Han where he is? I'd rather he was not involved in this."

" _What_?" Han sounded vaguely furious, but Luke was so dazed that he could not bring himself to care.

Luke's eyes flickered toward the bounty hunter in the corner. He tilted his head at Vader. "Why did you shield from me?" he asked curiously. "Did you think I could run from you?"

Vader lifted his head, his shoulders straightening out. "I did not wish for resistance," he said. "This would be easier without unnecessary fighting."

Luke smiled bitterly. "I wouldn't have fought," he admitted.

"No?" Vader eyed him. "And why, Organa, would you not fight me this time?"

"You mean what makes this instance any different than the last three times you've locked me in a room and tried to sway me to join you?" Luke found himself staring intently at a place beyond Vader's head. He heard his own voice, and it sounded like a droid's complacent tone. "I guess… I'm very tired of fighting you."

"Luke…" Han's voice crept from behind him. Luke was careful not to look back. "What are you talkin' about, Luke?"

"So you have reconsidered, after all these years," Vader said. "I will not take you as my apprentice, but if you wish to join me as an Inquisitor—"

"Now, now, Lord Vader, don't get ahead of yourself," Luke said coolly. "All I said is that I'm tired of fighting you. I think it is about time we finish the conversation we started on the Death Star. Don't you?"

Vader's reaction at this was, to say the least, almost violent. His head snapped away from Luke's face, and the rage he felt was unmasked and unprecedented, rolling off him in waves.

"You mean," Vader hissed, "your  _lie_?"

"Excuse me?" Luke leaned back in shock. He tried to recall the conversation in full, and suddenly he remembered the grave error he had made. "Oh."

"So you remember," Vader dragged his hand across the table as he paced alongside it. "You knew that the child was not on Alderaan."

"It was an honest mistake," Luke said sheepishly.

"I should kill you," Vader spat. "However, I need you alive. For now."

"Ha." Luke rubbed his eyes tiredly. "If it's any consolation, it wasn't really a lie. More like… a half-truth. From a certain point of view."

"Now  _that_  reminds me," said Vader, his voice sharp and disgusted. He held out his hand palm up. "Kenobi's lightsaber. Hand it to me."

Luke stood uneasily, his eyes flickering from Vader's mask to his hand. "Must I?" he asked faintly.

"I am not a patient man."

"I know." Luke had the scars to prove it. He wondered what would have happened to him if he had been left on Mustafar. Would he have given in and let Vader mold him into an Inquisitor? It was a thought that had haunted him for years. "But I just… you won't destroy it, will you?"

"It is no business of yours."

"It's mine now," Luke said, lifting his chin with the dignity of a seasoned senator. "If I give it to you, I expect you'll give it back to me."

"Do you imagine you could earn such a thing?"

Luke's eyes narrowed at him. It was clear that he had no choice, and he was only wasting his breath. He hesitantly slipped Obi-Wan Kenobi's lightsaber from the holster strapped at the small of his back, beneath his shirt. He set it on the table in silence, ignoring the way Lando's eyes widened in horror and recognition.

It was one thing to turn in a rebel prince, but it was an entirely different thing to turn in a Jedi. Luke knew the man's guilt had tripled as his dark eyes flickered wildly from Luke's round, youthful face, to the lightsaber on the table, and he spelled out the endless suffering of his future.

"How did you know?" he asked curiously, turning his attention back to Vader. "That your child was alive? How did you figure it out?"

Vader bristled. Luke realized, a little amused, that he had not wanted the rest of the room to know whose child they were talking about. He smirked at that.

"How," Vader rumbled, "is irrelevant."

"I don't think so," Luke said blankly, his eyes wide. "I want to know how."

"Why did you lie and say that she was  _not_?" Vader countered, rage rumbling around in his voice like distant thunder.

Luke blinked, and he shrugged. "I was angry, and I—" His mind caught up with his mouth, and his eyes flickered confusedly over Vader's mask. "She…?"

Vader watched him, his back straight and his helmet tipped forward. He seemed even more imposing than he had been when Luke had been eleven.

"You have kept her from me for too long, Organa," Vader hissed. "Now, she will come to me. If it is to protect you, then she will come."

Something clicked. His words hung in the air for a moment, and then everything aligned perfectly inside Luke's mind.

For so very long, Luke had felt like something was missing, like a piece of his heart had been chipped off at the very start of his life, and he had spent countless nights and hours trying to fill that empty space with anything that made him feel like he was worth more. That ache inside him, that longing, it had been somewhat soothed by the presence of Ezra Bridger, a Force-sensitive boy born a mere forty eight standard hours before him, albeit several hundred lightyears away. But then, at some point that he had not quite noticed, the longing had stopped. That emptiness had ceased to be.

It was back now. He felt it stronger than he'd ever felt it before.

Because Leia Skywalker had filled it.

Leia Skywalker, who shared his gift in the Force. His passion for flying. His touch for mechanics.

Leia Skywalker, who shared his birthday.

Laughter bubbled up inside his throat, and he turned away suddenly to smother it with his hand.

"Oh," he gasped, his eyes twinkling as he shot a grin back at Vader, "honestly, do you  _really_  think she'd ever come with you willingly… Anakin?"

The name had merely been a test. If he responded, it was true, and Luke could rest easy for the rest of his life knowing that he had a sister, and her name was Leia, and she was his best friend in the whole galaxy.

His laughter died in his throat as a familiar, terrible feeling came over him, and an odd tightening sensation tickled and then crushed his jugular, causing him to choke and grapple at his neck. He blinked up at Vader with wide eyes, and he wondered briefly if he should let it happen. The irony was not lost on him. His stupid games with Vader had nearly killed him on the Death Star too. They had certainly killed Alderaan.

But then Vader released him, and Luke fell to the floor, gasping wildly. Han had rushed forward, but Lando yanked him back, and Luke held his arm up, shooting him a sharp look. The man's face was utterly helpless, and terror shined in his eyes.

Luke rubbed his neck, and he looked down at his lap thoughtfully. A rush of anger fueled him, and he shot a chilly glare Vader's way.

"The only reason you are alive," Vader said darkly, "is because my daughter has not yet arrived."

"Leia will not join you," Luke said with a bite, his eyes narrowing. He pushed himself shakily to his feet, noting how Han froze with his arms extended toward Luke. His eyes were wide. Beside him, Lando looked horrified. "Hate to be the one to tell you, but she's even more stubborn than me. It won't happen."

"She will join me," Vader said firmly. "With a bit of… persuasion."

Luke shook his head. He moved slowly, his knees wobbling, and he sat down heavily on the table. He leaned his head back and watched the ceiling.

"You should let Han go," he said absently.

"He is of use, as of yet."

"I'm of more use," Luke pointed out. "Come on, Vader. I'm one of your most reviled enemies, an officer of Rebel Intelligence,  _and_  I'm Force sensitive. You don't need Han."

"Luke," Han said warningly. "You better shut the hell up. Just shut up already! None of this is helping."

"Perhaps you should listen to the smuggler."

Luke hummed idly. He was bitter that Vader had managed to track Leia down from across the galaxy and pin her as his daughter, when he was standing right in front of him and he was  _still_  blind. It had saved him as a child, this ignorance, but now it was a hindrance.

"Do you ever think about what you did to me?" Luke glanced at Vader curiously. "When you kidnapped me from Naboo, and took me to Mustafar. Did you ever once feel guilty that you had that woman torture me?"

"That was not torture," Vader said stiffly.

Luke yanked up the sleeve of his silver silk shirt, where the innumerous brands of white scars were raised upon his skin. Vader said nothing.

"So that's a no," Luke said flatly. "You don't regret torturing me yourself, then, on the Death Star, I imagine. Or blowing up my planet? I bet you were bitter that my father ended up being on it, though, since he's the only one who knows what really happened to Padmé Amidala."

"Do  _not_ —" Vader hissed.

"Leia looks like her," Luke said suddenly, blinking in awe at the wall. "Oh. That makes sense. Do you remember taking me to that portrait of her? I doubt you do, but at the time I couldn't place why I felt like I had seen her before. And after that, everywhere I went, her name and her face haunted me. I was being followed by Queen Amidala's ghost. And this feeling, like I knew her face from somewhere before, it never went away. It just got worse. Meeting Leia was the same. Wasn't it?" Luke eyed him with a thin smile. "That's how you knew your child was still alive. You saw Leia, and you felt like you recognized her. Because she looks like Padmé Amidala."

Vader rounded the table and starting toward him. It was always frightening when Vader decided to physically approach you instead of using the Force to attack.

"Luke!" Han cried as Vader reached toward him, ready to snatch him by the neck. Luke was faster, though.

"So, I guess that means that I look like…" Luke's head snapped up to peer into Vader's mask curiously, as though he might see through it and into the face beneath, and he leaned forward into Vader's hand that floated near his throat. "You?"

Vader let go of him like his flesh had rotted through his glove and burned his fingers. He took a large step back, and he looked down at Luke with newfound rage bursting through all his shields and hitting Luke head on.

"What," he hissed, "did you just say?"

Luke sat on the table, undaunted and undeterred. He sat with his hands flat on the table, and he leaned back with a shrug.

"Padmé Amidala was my mother," he said simply. Upon saying it a wave of fresh relief passed through him, soothing the dull ache inside his chest and leaving him smiling deliriously.

"No," Vader said viciously, his voice slicing through that newfound relief that Luke had held dear, and sending another fresh peal of dread shuddering through him. "That is not possible."

"You don't believe me?" Luke couldn't even feign surprise. He merely slumped, his eyes falling into his lap. "Because of Leia. You don't think it's possible that you have two children?"

Nobody in the room said anything, and he was acutely aware of the secrets that he had just allowed to trickle into the ears of two strangers and, worst of all, Han. Luke couldn't even look at him.

"I would have known," Vader said firmly.

"You didn't, though," Luke told him, his voice small and bitter. "I was right in front of you all along, and you didn't notice a thing. You're so blinded by your own pursuit of power, you never once looked my way and wondered about Bail Organa's Force-sensitive adoptive child, who was born the day your wife died. Who undoubtedly resembles the long  _deceased_  Anakin Skywalker. It was so simple! We never hid it very well, and we were always terrified that you would figure it out someday. But you never did. Never."

"Leave us," he barked at the bounty hunter. Boba Fett, Luke believed his name was. Leia had encountered him once or twice, and Luke understood that he was under Vader's employment.

Fett left without a word, prodding Han with the butt of his blaster and ushering him and Lando out as well. His shouts of protest were left ignored, his words bouncing off Luke's brain.

"Luke! Luke,  _hey_!" Han's fingers clung to the doorframe. "You don't owe him anything, ya hear? Luke! Look at me, dammit!"

And then he was gone.

Luke felt cold and alone.

Vader was staring at him. Luke could not quite fathom his stare, and it only made him angrier. He lifted himself high, and he pushed off the table, whirling on him.

"You are a  _terrible_  person," he said, his voice shaking and his eyes watering. "I have scoured every database I could for even a glimmer of who Padmé Amidala was, and I never understood how she could have fallen for someone as terrible as you. She'd hate you, if she saw you now, you know that right?"

"You presume too much," Vader hissed. "You, who did not know her, have no say in what she would or would not think!"

"She was my mother!" Luke's voice wavered, and he thumped his hand over his heart, his shoulders sagging. "My  _mother_ , who loved nothing if not democracy, who was the champion for those who had no voice! My father— the father that  _raised_ me— told me that the Rebellion was  _her_  idea!"

"Lies," Vader spat. However, that forced him to take a step back. As though he had to rearrange his worldview.

"Palpatine knew her well enough," Luke said absently. "He must have. He was probably glad when she died, since she would have been his biggest and most vocal opponent."

Vader did not respond. It was as if, for the first time, he was  _listening_  to Luke. His head was low, and his shoulders were tense, but otherwise he appeared attentive.

"Did you care about her at all?" Luke demanded, searching Vader's mask for some vague flicker of human emotion.

His head shot up, and he took a large step toward Luke, forcing him to stagger backwards.

"I loved her more than anything," he said, his deep voice growing oddly faint. There was a flicker of pain there, something that Luke recognized well. "I love her still."

"Then how could you do this to her?" Luke gasped, shaking his head in disbelief. "You betrayed her. You betrayed everything she loved. What if she were still alive? If she knew what you'd done… what you did to me, even?"

"I did not know," Vader whispered. He was staring at Luke again, his head inclining. "I… would not have harmed you. If I had known. You should have been plain with me from the start."

"You should have been loyal to the Jedi, to your wife, and to  _democracy_ , Anakin," Luke replied in a sharp, cold voice. Vader recoiled at the sound of his true name, but Luke continued without pause. "Leia adores you. Not Darth Vader, but Anakin Skywalker. She worships him."

"Anakin Skywalker is dead," Vader hissed. "I will be sure to amend her mistake."

"You don't understand," Luke murmured, dragging his hand through his hair. "She'll be heartbroken when she realizes that you're her father— it will hit her hard, and she'll be upset. But she won't let that stop her from her goal. She will kill you, regardless of who you once were."

"Then she is closer to the Dark Side than I anticipated," Vader said, his voice distant and small. "That's… good. Very good."

"You're not  _listening_!" Luke threw his arms out indignantly, his eyes wide. "Leia won't kill you out of revenge or out of anger! She'll kill you because that is what she believes is just! Because you are in the way, because you left her to the task of being the last Jedi in the galaxy who can start a new Jedi Order!"

"She would fail at that," Vader said with the certainty of a man who had failed similarly.

"We'll see," Luke said coldly. "She's a good Jedi. A good person. I don't think she's like me, either. I don't think she'll care that you're her father. She'll do what she thinks is right, no matter what."

That caught his attention. Luke found himself shrinking a little as Vader rounded on him fully, his steps quick as he closed the distance and towered over him.

"And you?" Vader's helmet was close enough that Luke could see his reflection in the polished glass of his helmet's black eyes. He looked like a child, pale and small and frightened. "You care that I am your father?"

Luke suppressed a shudder. He could lie— even if Vader could sense it, he could lie, and that would be simple. It would save his ego. It would save his pride.

But Luke had not gotten himself into this mess just to become a liar again.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice small and thin. "I've always wondered how the vilest human in the entire galaxy could be my father. I guess I had some wishful thinking, that maybe you might have been good once. You must have been, if you were Anakin Skywalker." He found himself briefly winded, and he held his head in disbelief as the shock hit him all at once. "How did I not know that? Leia and Ahsoka would talk about you like crazy, and I never… I didn't  _want_  to know, of course, but…"

Vader studied him, a hint of curiosity apparent in his sloped stature. "You did not know my name?" he asked slowly. "Then… how, exactly—?"

"I used context clues," Luke said dully. "Intuition. It's how I figured out you were my father in the first place. I'm quite good at jumping to conclusions."

"Yes," Vader said dully, likely remembering Luke's stint in the Senate. "I'm aware."

Luke sighed. He wrapped his arms around himself, and looked down at his feet. "Can I go back to Han?" He shot a glance over his shoulder. "I need to explain what's happening right now to him."

"Are you aware of what's happening right now?" Vader asked him. Luke noted that his voice was much less… biting than it usually was.

"Well, I'm essentially surrendering," Luke said scratching his cheek and giving a dim little laugh. "And… I know I can't sway your mind about trying to capture Leia, but can't you let Han go? He's got nothing to do with this, and it's not like he can come back for revenge. He's not a Jedi."

"Why would I do that?" Vader asked him coolly.

"Because I'm your son," Luke said, "and I'm asking nicely. Please let Han go. For my sake."

Vader merely stared at him. He tilted his head, and then rested his hands on his hips. "No," he said. "I will not do this."

"I'm  _surrendering_ ," Luke gasped. "I'm going with you willingly! On the condition that you let Han and Lando go free."

"Lando Calrissian betrayed you," Vader hissed. "And the smuggler will be a useful bargaining chip."

Luke was struck numb, his eyes wide and shining as he shook his head. He did not know how to demand anything from Vader, at least not in a way where he would listen. It wasn't that he had really thought admitting that he was Vader's son would change anything to his benefit. Really, he knew it would make things much worse. But at the very least he thought he might have some leeway in cutting Han free.

Showed how much he knew.

"Have you listened to me at all?" Luke demanded, sucking in a sharp breath and shaking his head. "Leia is not the person you are expecting her to be! She is not going to give up, and she is not going to surrender! She's not like me!"

"Then she will succeed where you cannot," Vader said sharply. "She will become my apprentice. Together, she and I will—"

"You're delusional!" Luke cried, taking an insistent step forward. "I am not telling you these things because I am trying to trick you, I'm telling you so you won't do something terrible and rash, when there are ways to avoid it! Leia will fight you until her very last breath. She will not think to give into a fight, even if it means saving Han and I from pain. In her head, killing you means freeing us."

"If it is a fight she wants," Vader said, turning his head away stiffly, "then it is a fight I will give her."

"I'm telling you that this can all be avoided if you let Han go, and let me speak to her immediately if she falls for your trap!" Luke had no delusions about why he and Han were actually here. He stared at Vader expectantly, but he got no reaction. Not even a tilt of the head. "Please. I need to tell her she's my sister. I need her to know!"

" _I_  do not know if that is true," Vader told him coldly.

Luke gaped at him. Did he really not believe him? "Look to the Force," Luke urged him. "Can't you see it's true?"

"Do not lecture me on the Force, boy."

Luke shook his head in disbelief.  _Boy_. Okay, then.

"Here," he said, lifting his fingers to his scalp and pluck a strand of hair from his head. He strode up to Vader, every step a trial, every movement a test, and he grasped Vader's wrist. Vader neither jerked away nor welcomed this interaction, and instead watched Luke stiffly as he flipped his palm open and deposited the pale strand of hair. Very gingerly, Luke closed Vader's palm. And then he turned away. "I am going back to speak with Han."

"I did not tell you that you could leave," Vader said, his voice low and cold. There was not a trace of sentimentality, and his disbelief in Luke's claims was palpable.

"You know where to find me," Luke said simply, without looking back.

"Organa," Vader said warningly.

Luke stood before the door, and he turned his head over his shoulder. Vader had not budged, and his hand was still hovering in midair, closed tightly into a fist. Luke smiled at Vader bitterly.

"Come find me when you're ready to listen to me," he said, " _father_."

And with that, he stepped out of the room.

* * *

The readout on the screen before him glowed a bright, feverish green, and the numbers danced behind his scarred eyes. A part of him, a lonely and hopeless part that had long since retired to despairing silently, felt sick.

_100% MATCH_

Prince Luke Organa of Alderaan, that foolish, insipid little boy who had defied him one too many times, was his son.

Vader had tortured his son.

Not once, but  _twice_. He had allowed the Seventh Sister to beat him until he was scarred and scared, and then he had taken matters into his own hands. There had been no real need to torture Luke Organa on the Death Star. Vader had known that the mind probe would not work, and Organa had told him so. Yet Organa had done nothing to stop it. He had said nothing about being Vader's son then, when it could have made all the difference.

Vader regretted destroying Alderaan, if only for the bitter rage that filled him when he realized he could never strangle the truth out of Bail Organa. He was already too dead for that.

A son. A  _son_. He had a son. He had  _twins_.

When he had found Leia, it had felt like the world had restarted. Like he had been submerged under ice for twenty odd years, and her name, her face, her wide brown eyes, had called him back to reality. The only thing Vader truly knew was that he loved his daughter, and that he would trade the world for her. If she killed him, that was fine. It was her choice, and Vader did not blame her for hating him.

But this was different. This was Luke Organa, a sworn enemy. This was the boy who had openly defied Vader innumerous times, and with a smile on his face. This cocky, troublesome prince was his son. And Vader was at a loss.

Should he feel guilty about feeling guilty that he had hurt the boy? That sickened twinge in his gut that reminded him that he was still very much human was nagging at him. What could he do? What could he say? There was no making up for a lost planet, a lost home, a lost  _culture_. There was no mending this.

And yet, the boy had surrendered. He had given himself up to Vader, and had said that he would come with Vader willingly.

 _If,_ he reminded himself _, I give up Solo._

There were so many questions. When Obi-Wan had stolen Leia, had he and Bail Organa made an agreement? To separate Vader's children, to force them to grow up apart? Did the cruelty never end?

He could, of course, ask Organa— that is,  _Luke_ — to tell him all he knew about the ordeal. It seemed that the boy knew the most about the entire farce of those among the living. And Vader couldn't very well ask Obi-Wan.

Vader never thought he'd live to see the day he regretted killing Obi-Wan Kenobi. Yet here he stood, yearning for a few precious seconds to ask the old man  _why_. Why had he taken everything and more from Vader? Was Padmé not enough? He had to tear the last of his family from him, separate his children, and brainwash them while he was none the wiser. To think he'd tortured his own son!

Yet, his son was Prince Luke Organa. A boy Vader hated.

A boy Vader had always been drawn to, in some sort of way. Vader had never considered his actions before Alderaan particularly malicious, not even stealing him away to Mustafar. That event had been less cruel in his mind, and more curious. He had, after all, neglected to tell his Master of the Force sensitive child of one of their most dangerous conspirators. For years. Vader felt the pangs of fury and anguish then as he did now, the white-hot rage that consumed him and demanded blood. Another part of him wanted to sink to his knees and cry— not that he was capable of producing tears anymore.

Without hesitating, he erased all the data he could from the system he had used to check Luke's DNA, and he brushed past his hired gun with a deliberately vicious gait.

"You will speak of this to no one," he hissed, turning his gaze upon Fett's helmet and watching him shrug one shoulder. Vader imagined he was smiling beneath that helmet, but he had no proof.

"No one's gonna believe that Prince Luke Organa is your son, anyway," Fett said simply, as though perhaps this made up for the fact that he certainly would have sold out this secret if it were anyone else. "It's too ridiculous. People want facts, not the plot of a low-budget holodrama."

Vader ignored that, if only because it would be beneath him to squabble over such a comment. "You understand that if somehow this information happens to become common knowledge," Vader said in a low voice, "then there will not be a safe haven in the galaxy for you to hide in. Do you understand me?"

Fett did not seem to budge at the threat, though Vader knew he understood him clearly. There was a reason why Vader had continued to rely on Fett's services over the years, and it was not because of the man's ties to a forgotten past.

There was no loyalty among bounty hunters, but there was some shred of common sense. Boba Fett would not choose to lose his head for a handful of credits.

"Now," Vader said, turning his attention on the empty space opposite of Fett's head, "bring me Solo."

"As I told you," Fett said, "Jabba has not done business with Solo in years. Before he broke off business ties, he paid off Jabba in full. There is no bounty to collect."

Vader did not bother to dignify Fett's observation with a response. He merely stood and stared forward, his arms behind his back. Fett would have to trust that Vader knew best.

The bounty hunter's dissatisfaction was clear as he shook his head, lifting his gun to his shoulder and shrugging meagerly. He turned away and stalked out the doors, passing by an ashen-faced Lando Calrissian. Vader had no opinion on the man, aside from the observation that he had little spine and few loyalties.

"Speak your piece now, Calrissian," Vader said as Lando trailed after him in a disgruntled, uncertain shuffle.

"I don't know the kid very well," Lando said, his eyes flickering toward the floor as Vader turned his full attention on him. He then swallowed his fear, visibly gulping as he looked back up at Vader's face and squared his shoulders. "But if it's cooperation you're looking for, there's no harm in letting Han go. It'll help you in the long run, trying to get on his good side."

"And why," Vader hissed, taking a step forward and forcing Lando's back against a wall, "should I listen to you? You just admitted that you do not know Luke Organa. Well, Calrissian, I'll have you know something. I  _do_  know the young prince." Too well, perhaps. Vader had unwittingly seen his son grow up. He had watched him blossom from a small boy, full of untamed fire and untapped fear, to an irksome young man, foolish and bold. He presumed too much. "Letting Solo go will not tame him, but rather subdue him. I do not wish to subdue."

"You mean to break him," Lando whispered, his eyes growing wide and distant. It was as if he had just witnessed a dead man pass through the floor, and his face looked uncomfortably pale for a man with such a dark complexion. It was almost as if he were ill, and his skin had gone cold and clammy.

"It is no concern of yours what I do with my son, Calrissian," Vader said briskly, leaving him to stew in his horror as his cape fluttered at his back. "You should do as you do best— be concerned for yourself."

Lando Calrissian, a man with no loyalties, was left to stand and gape after him. Fear came as a flood did— suddenly, and without mercy.

Vader merely walked away. He had no interest in entertaining Lando Calrissian, especially not on the matter of his son

His son. Prince Luke Organa.

His  _son_. Against all odds, he had a son.

 _His mother's child_ , Vader thought, the mix of fond and irked feelings causing the recollection of Padmé Amidala to be bittersweet.  _Righteous and stubborn in the face of injustice, readily gambling with his own life to ensure that someone else may have it better_.

Vader had always found Luke Organa's penchant for charity irritating at best. He had never paused to consider why the boy did the things he did, because Vader, as a habit, assumed the worst in people. Particularly politicians. So his son's insistence on being the most notoriously merciful and philanthropic senator seated reminded him sorely of his past mistakes, and his inability to learn.

Luke Organa was not kind because it suited his agenda. He was kind because he was an innately kindhearted, gentle individual.

Because he was Padmé's son.

The rage came all at once. Vader lifted a table, the Force trailing around in subtle, balking waves, and he flung it into the opposite wall. It shattered, wood splinters spitting across the floor and coughing into the air. The troopers stationed behind him jumped, but said nothing.

Obi-Wan had done this. He had stolen Padmé's children from him. Given one to Bail Organa, of all people, and now his son's mind was poisoned.

Leia Skywalker had been raised on Tatooine. As horrible as Vader felt about that fact, it gave him leverage. He understood this girl implicitly. Humble beginnings on a scorching planet, a fountain of hopeless wishes filling your chest and mouth as you search the stars for the meaning of your life. It was simple.

Luke Organa had grown up on Alderaan. A jewel of a planet, as Core as one could be aside from Imperial Center, with lush forests and a temperate atmosphere. He had been a prince. He had wanted for nothing his whole life, and grown up hearing stories of the great and fair Padmé Amidala. Not only that, but he had been raised by perhaps the greatest conspirator against the Emperor in Imperial history.

Turning him to Vader's cause would be difficult, but, he imagined, not impossible. He just had to think. On a base level, Vader could understand Luke Organa. He was charismatic, inspired, and passionate. His cause was clearly almost the most important thing to him.

And yet Luke had no qualms surrendering to Vader.

Was that a trick?

Han Solo was certainly not worth the trouble. Han Solo was, as Boba Fett continuously reminded him,  _worthless_. There were a few small bounties on the man's head for ferrying rebels around the galaxy for a few years, but any debt he'd had with Jabba the Hutt had been settled years ago. Fett was here because he had been instrumental to finding Leia in the first place, and Vader relied on his competence. He had not meant to allow him to know such an important shred of information.

Vader had to decide what to do. Fast.

Killing Solo was out of the question. He did not want Luke to hate him, just to obey him. And it was not possible to get Luke to obey him without leverage.

Unless, of course, he used Ahsoka.

Vader found himself freezing at the thought. Was that wise? To keep both his son and his former apprentice in line, show them both that he had the other in a tight bind?

The fact remained that he had no solid reason to keep Han Solo. In fact, letting the man go was becoming enormously more favorable.

The return of Boba Fett concluded Vader's musings. It was too late now. He had to decide.

"Leave us," he commanded Fett without turning his way. He focused on the wide window before him, peering out into the wide expanse of the floating city. Tall spires shot through closely knit clouds, disappearing into the atmosphere.

They stood in silence. Vader watching the clouds shuffle past, and Han Solo standing awkwardly, glaring at Vader's back.

"Whatever you want from Luke and Leia," Solo said suddenly, his voice a bold drawl, "you won't get it. They're good people, and you can't trick them."

"You seem very close to my children, Solo." Vader turned to face him, and he was struck with a twinge of amusement as Solo flinched. He gathered himself quickly, but the terror was clear. "Tell me, if I cut off one of your fingers, would my son kneel? Would my daughter?"

The terror that had settled subtly on Solo's face grew tenfold, and his expression crumpled. He lowered his eyes, and he took a deep breath.

"Really gunning for father of the year, huh?" Han muttered. His eyes fluttered shut, and he shrugged meagerly. "Do what you want with me. You won't corrupt them. You could never turn them to your side, you hear me?  _Never_."

Torture would be simple. Killing would be easy. But allowing Solo to live— letting him go, even? Vader could not comprehend the small mercy of it. He understood that the kind gesture would help him gain Luke Organa's sympathy, and it was not as though the boy was lacking in willingness. He seemed ready to follow Vader, so long as Solo was cut free. Leia was a different story entirely, but Vader would deal with that when she arrived.

Why, then, was he hesitating?

"If my children are so resilient, then why are you here?" Vader watched Solo's brow furrow confusedly, and before he could object he continued. "The Prince will gladly do whatever I wish of him, at the small price of your freedom. Such a weak heart cannot withstand the temptation of the Dark Side."

"Luke is not weak," Solo snapped, taking a sharp and courageous step forward. Anger flashed upon his solemn face as he flicked his index finger at Vader accusingly. "You know what your problem is,  _Your Lordship_?" He inhaled sharply, his jaw clenching tightly. "You think you can control everything and everyone with sheer power alone, but nobody wants to follow such an unreliable, morally bankrupt, piece of shit like you!"

Vader almost wished this idiotic man could see his eyes roll. Once, long ago, Anakin Skywalker would have relished in making his disdain apparent.

But Vader was not Anakin Skywalker.

"Power equates to fear," Vader told Solo curtly. "Fear equates to loyalty. My children  _will_  follow me, Solo. Because they are foolish, and because they love too much, they will follow me."

"They won't," Solo said firmly.

"We shall see."

Solo stared at him, his eyes narrowed and his jaw jumping. His back was pin straight, and his nostrils were flaring, and he had a defiant look about him like he was a feral animal, trapped and terrified.

Vader turned his back to Solo, and he focused his attention back on the wide window, with its rolling pink clouds and glittering durasteel spires.

"You are free to leave, Solo," Vader said coldly. "Depart as soon as you are able. Return to your rebel friends, or disappear into the seedy underbelly of the Outer Rim. I do not care. But know this— you  _will_  be gone before nightfall."

Nothing but a sharp intake of breath and a small stretch of silence implied that Solo was shocked by this offer. Vader was irritated that he had to extend this merciful offer to begin with, but he understood that it would be beneficial to him in the long run. Once Luke was informed of Solo's safety, the boy would kneel before him.

And if he disobeyed, Vader had two other prisoners that he could toss threats at, if need be.

"No."

Vader's head snapped to the side, though he did not turn. What kind of fools did his son and daughter associate with, if this was their closest friend and ally? Did Han Solo truly not grasp the severity of the situation?

"You understand that I am not giving you a choice," Vader hissed, closing his fists behind his back and glaring toward the man. "You  _will_  leave. You will never see my son or my daughter again. You would do well to forget you ever met them."

"No," Solo repeated, this time more fiercely. "No way. I won't leave them!"

Vader turned fully, whirling in such a way that his cape fluttered around him. His every step caused Solo to shrink into himself more and more, until the man was buckling under the weight of Vader's shadow.

"My children are  _mine_ ," Vader spat, restraining himself from choking the miserable man here and now. His mechanical hands clenched and unclenched behind his back, a phantom itch possessing his fingertips. "Perhaps you should consider your options very carefully. Leave this planet tonight, or die."

Solo's face blanched suddenly, but he did not buckle beneath the weight of Vader's words. He merely stared up at him, and clenched his jaw tightly. "Listen here," he said, his voice thin and his eyebrows furrowed. "You will never— and I mean  _never_  have them. Whether I'm here or not, you've already lost. Because you don't mean anything to them. Because you don't matter."

The resounding, heavy  _thwack_  of Vader's fist connecting with Solo's jaw echoed throughout the room. Solo's head snapped to the side as Vader backhanded him, and he stumbled, falling to one knee. He lowered his head, and spat a mixture of blood and spittle onto the floor. A long, thin red filament trailed from his lips.

The troopers came thundering in without having to be called. Vader stood over the man, his rage filling him from stump to stump, pumping him full of red-hot disgust and flowing through him like the Force. He had to whirl away, clenching his fists at his sides as he marched back up to the window and snarled through his vocoder.

"Take him away!"

The horror and fear emanating from Solo rolled into the Force in waves. Vader relished in it. He did not look back as he was lifted from the floor by his underarms and dragged away.

* * *

Regret gnawed at him slowly. He had always known, somehow, that the truth would hurt him worse than the lies, but he had been blinded by his own suffering. He had been so damn consumed by how terrible this secret had been, he had forgotten just why the secret was so terrible in the first place.

And now everyone else had to suffer for it.

When Luke had first returned to Han in this cell, Han had merely stared at him. As though maybe he might find a trace of a curved helmet poking out beneath the flaxen strands of his hair. He was undoubted turning Luke's own words over in his head—  _So then, do I look like… you?_ — it was so trivial!

Luke had sat down heavily on the other side of the room. Han had stared ahead for a moment before his eyes trailed uncertainly to Luke.

"You've been keeping this secret for as long as I've known you," he uttered softly.

Luke did not meet his eye. Instead he had lifted his head from his hands and focused on a wall. He'd dropped his chin in a small nod.

"Damn…" Han had exhaled, and he'd rubbed his forehead exasperatedly. "Damn, kid… I don't even know how to begin fixing this one."

That had gotten a small, timid smile out of Luke. He had closed his eyes and shook his head. "You can't fix a bad parent, Han," he said. "The thought is nice, though. Thank you."

He had stewed in the ensuing silence for well over twenty minutes. He had considered every possible scenario, and there were none that were particularly appealing. He had been consumed by his hubris, by the thought that Padmé Amidala had been the smartest woman alive, and could never have been tricked into marrying someone as evil as Vader.

How wrong he had been.

"Did you know?" Han had blurted.

Luke had glanced at him for the first time, and he saw that his friend was half-doubled over, his mouth in his hand.

"What do you mean?" Luke asked slowly.

"About Leia." Han rubbed his chin, and he frowned down at his lap. "That she's your sister."

It still hadn't quite settled, this idea that Leia Skywalker was his flesh and blood twin. It did not shock him the way finding out about Vader had. When he had realized, it had clicked into place like a missing gear or power casing. It felt like someone had opened up his chest and gently laid his heart back inside it. It felt  _right_.

"No," Luke admitted, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I had no idea until today, but… I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"I guess." Han grimaced. "More sense than the two of you being Vader's kids, anyway."

"I'm sorry I never told you," Luke murmured. "I never… I don't  _like_  being Vader's son. When my father— Bail Organa, that is— told me how it all happened, that my father had been a fallen Jedi, that my mother had fought for democracy and freedom until the very end, and I could never make sense of it. I never even asked Vader's true name, because it frightened me. Giving a name to my worst nightmare made it real. And now it's real, realer than it ever has been. Anakin Skywalker is my father."

Han had sucked in a breath. He had stood, crossed the room, and set a firm hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Well, what does that matter?" Han asked flippantly. He ignored the sharp look Luke shot him. "It's not like it changes anything. Not for me, anyway."

Luke couldn't help but feel a surge of fondness for Han, and he smiled at him a little. "Thanks," he said, "but you know Leia won't feel the same."

"Oh." Han's face fell, and he sat down heavily beside Luke as he stared ahead of him. "Yeah. She'll be pissed."

"Uh huh."

"Vader won't know what hit him."

"Probably not."

Han smirked grimly. "I almost want a front row seat," he said.

Now Luke felt hopeless. Han had been gone for a little over an hour, and Chewie had hardly spoken in that time. All that had escaped his mouth was a long, pained yowl as Han had shouted at him to not do anything stupid. Luke had since sat with him, silently reassembling Threepio piece by piece.

It had been Luke's mistake, assuming things would change simply because Vader knew Luke was his son. A folly, truly, on his part. He had run through so many different scenarios in his head, good and bad, but he'd never thought that telling Vader would do  _nothing_. It was sort of a disappointment.

The only thing Bail Organa had ever let slip about the relationship between Vader and Padmé Amidala was that they had loved each other once. And love, his father had said, made people do illogical, unthinkable things.

Love was the foundation of all great things— of countries, of homes, of entire worlds. And yet love could unravel everything in a blink of an eye, like a fire that had been neglected and left to consume a whole house.

The Jedi of old, Luke knew, had restrictions on things such as love. Perhaps his father was exactly why.

 _Love,_  Luke thought grimly,  _is what will end me and Leia both, if we are not smarter than our father._

Inside his hands, the cold gold plated head of his dismembered protocol droid rolled innocuously. Chewie was fixing some faulty wiring beneath the breastplate as Luke tied up frayed wires, hissing softly as a stray spark bit at his thumb. He stuck the pad of it between his teeth as he returned Threepio's head to Chewie's side, and the humble Wookiee took it gingerly. Luke watched him reattach the head with careful precision, his hands quick and nimble despite their scale.

Working on Threepio wasn't helping. Luke didn't know if anything  _could_  help. His brain was scattered into a thousand different directions, and he did not know where he might find the scrambled bits of his mind.

Luke had no escape. This was clear. He had closed every available exit the moment he had opened his mouth, as though he had yanked on the plug that he'd sealed his secrets with and out came spewing a foul and unrepentant flood.

Talking to Chewie about it seemed pointless. Chewie's hands worked steadily on securing Threepio's head, and Luke could see the fear in his eyes as his mighty brow furrowed. It would be cruel to worry him more with Luke's troubles. After all, Luke was the son of the most terrible man in the galaxy.

It was still hard to think of Vader as his father. When Luke heard the word, his mind trailed back to the warm square face of Bail Organa, his dark eyes crinkling with melting laughter as he pulled Luke into a brief but loving hug.

All Vader had ever given him were scars and threats.

In all the years that Luke had known the truth, he had never truly been able to admit to himself that Vader was all bad.

Right now Luke wanted to. He wanted to shout it to the clouds, and let the words turn every fat white mound black as ink

A sudden garbled sound came sputtered from Threepio's head as the light behind his eyes flickered. Luke rushed to Chewie's side, laying his hand on Threepio's chestplate.

His words were unintelligible, his voice frantic as he began to beg, his head swiveling from side to side. "Oh," Threepio gasped, "oh no, no, please!"

"Threepio!" Luke took the droid's face in his hands, and he stared desperately down at him. "It's okay. Do you know what happened to you?"

"Why…" Threepio seemed taken aback. "Master Luke!"

Threepio's voice was still garbled, and Luke shared a glance with Chewie. Chewie reached down and began to adjust the wires leading from his half exposed chest to his neck.

"Stormtroopers!" Threepio cried in his own voice. "There are stormtroopers. Here! I meant to tell you, Master Luke, but… oh, why didn't I tell you?"

"It's okay, Threepio," Luke said, smiling wanly. "We figured that out."

Knowing that Threepio had been destroyed by stormtroopers seemed to make it all worse. He had felt bad enough thinking it was an accident, but now that he knew that Threepio had been torn apart due to Luke's sheer negligence… it was disheartening.

He kept his fingers busy, rerouting wires and stuffing them back into gold plating. His mind, however, was reeling. Being true was troublesome. If Luke could go back in time and tell his lie again, he would. But he couldn't. He was stuck with his truth, his maddening truth, that he had been born to a genocidal monster. It should have been easy to hate him, but nearly a decade later and Luke still felt the chill of the hollow space in his chest where that burning hatred, or even alternatively warm kindling sensation of unadulterated love, should have been.

There was nothing there. Luke had a pit drilled inside him, a space for Vader that remained cold and vacant. No emotions passed through. He could not reach for them, and it scared him.

Anger lead to darkness. Luke knew enough of the Force to know that. But sometimes it felt like that was the only path he could choose, with a life like this.

Luke had killed enough people. It wasn't like it would be hard.

 _What if he makes me into his Sith apprentice_? Luke thought numbly.  _What if I can't stop him_?

Leia would have to kill him alongside their father.

That thought struck him like lightning, and he jerked away from Threepio with his shoulders slumped and his eyes squeezed shut. Chewie yowled softly, but Luke could not reply.

No. No, no, no. He would not put Leia through that. He could not let himself fall to the Darkside, and he could not let Leia kill Vader without knowing the truth. And even then, he would stop her. She did not deserve such a stain upon her heart.

Once, a very long time ago, a man and a woman fell in love, and had two beautiful babies before they were torn apart tragically. How could something so terrible come out of such a pretty start?

Luke decided that if there was anything left of the man Padmé Amidala fell in love with, he'd salvage it.

And if not, he would kill him.

His reverie was batted away with the  _whoosh_  of the sliding door. Luke whirled to face it, and he and Chewie shouted in unison as Han was dragged into the cell by two stormtroopers. His limp body was tossed upon the metal floor, and Luke stood frozen, unable to decide whether to run at the troopers in an angry, bitter rage, or to scoop Han's head from the floor and support it while he returned to consciousness.

In the end, he did neither.

Han groaned, his face a mess of purplish welts and thin streaks of blood from a nasty looking cut on his forehead. His hair was damp with sweat and greasy from coagulated blood.

With that groan, Luke realized they were alone in the cell, and he'd wasted his change. He resigned himself to kneeling beside Han, the full extent of his horror smacking him in the face, and he gripped Han's shoulders tightly as he helped him into a sitting position.

"I'm sorry," Luke whispered. Han's head lolled, and he cracked an eye open to peer at Luke quizzically. "This is all my fault."

"Shuddap," Han murmured, smacking him gingerly on the cheek. His fingers laced behind Luke's neck, and he shook Luke's head fondly. "Don't… don't blame yourself for his bullshit, okay, kid? You ain't… you ain't his keeper, ya got it?"

Luke pressed his lips together thinly.

"I said," Han said, his voice thin and his breaths labored, "you  _got_  it?"

"Yeah..."

Han sniffed. A bit of blood had dribbled from his nose.

"Good," he said, releasing Luke's head. Luke helped him to his feet and up onto a small bench. "Oh,  _ow_ …"

Chewie let out a mournful yowl as he came closer, his arms slipping around Han's neck. Han coughed a short laugh, and he wriggled for a moment before resigning himself to Chewie's attention.

"I'll live, you big baby," Han said, patting Chewie's hand slowly. His hands were quivering, and he closed his eyes tight, like he was trying to wake up from a bad dream.

"What did he do to you?" Luke whispered, pulling his arms in toward his chest and feeling like he would give anything in that moment to have never existed at all.

Han coughed a short, bitter laugh that rung true with pain. "Your dad's a real piece of work," he muttered, drawing a hand over his eyes. "I don't wanna talk about it"

"Han," Luke said, his voice small. "I won't let him get away with this. You're… you're my best friend. If he thinks he can hurt the people I love without any consequences, he's got another thing coming."

" _Don't_." Han's eyes snapped open, and he snatched Luke by the arm. His fingers trembled against Luke's wrist, and his dark eyes were large and uncharacteristically frightened. He looked half crazed all of a sudden, like an animal caged for half his life and suddenly set free. "Luke, buddy, listen to me. I… I know I can't be here for you. I can't protect you, not from him. I can't do  _anything_  to stop him from, from doing what he did to me to you, but— but worse." Han swallowed, and his expression suddenly became hard. He squeezed Luke's wrist and stared into his eyes. "You gotta be smart now, kid. Smarter than him."

Luke could hardly breathe. He stood and stared at Han, his breath caught in his throat, fear creeping at the back of his mind.

He pushed down his fear. He pushed down his tears.

He smiled down at Han, and he offered a shrug.

"Smarter than Vader?" he said with a snort. "That can't be hard."


	8. catch a bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! next chapter will be the last of this installment, and then we move on to rotj (yay!). yes, school is still kicking my ass, but im on fall break so i had yesterday and today to just... vegetate and write, and i wrote so much! it's amazing what sleep can do lmao.
> 
> thank you for all the positive feedback from last chapter! im glad you all liked the reveal. i really hope you like this chapter too.

Sneaking into Cloud City was surprisingly simple. Knowing that it was a trap emboldened her, and she flew right into the danger zone without thinking or feeling any sort of remorse. If Vader was expecting her, let him feel her coming. Let him know his mistake.

She did not fear anything, except losing. If she could save Han and Luke, then she had done all that she could, and she would be content with that.

A long time ago, she had been a small girl on a dustbowl death trap, and she had stood among the sand and sunlight and known that her world was bigger than what the wavering yellow horizon could offer. Now she sailed among clouds, fat and full and faithless, and she knew that she would always crave more. There was a hunger to her that had been born on Tatooine, the sort of drive that kicked desert children onto their hands and knees digging for a well that would never appear.

 _If I die today,_  she thought,  _who will tell Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru? If I fail, who will ever know?_

It was scary. This was scary.

She did not fear anything, except maybe dying.

 _Was_  she afraid to die? Leia could not tell if the humming in her chest was a warning or an acute sense of dread. Fear had cost Dooku— it had made itself known to her, and it showed her how caving into fear helped no one.

And yet.

And yet, she was here. She drew a breath, two mind tricks into an administration building in Cloud City, and she felt the steady hum of Luke's presence around her. He was near enough that her heart both swelled and broke.

Her fingers were white against her blaster as she edged through the halls. She was right to have come, she knew, as she sensed the overwhelming force of Vader's presence as it pervaded the walls of the building and seeped into her skin. She was right, and yet she understood now better than ever before  _why_  Yoda and Ben were so adamant about reining in her fear and rage.

Fear and anger, anger and fear.

Tools for the Dark Side.

She took a breath, and she leaned up against a wall. A stray curl fell into her eyes as she stared ahead of her, a silent prayer on her tongue.

When Ahsoka had been around, she had always advised Leia to follow her instincts. Ahsoka had never told Leia that she was too much, that she needed to tone down her attitude if she wanted to become a Jedi. Ahsoka Tano, a Jedi in all but name, had never believed for a second that Leia might turn to the Dark Side.

But Yoda did.

Even  _Ben_  had his fears.

And Leia knew that it was not unfounded. She had seen what the Dark Side could do to a man.

Ben had always said that no one alive or dead had baffled him quite like Count Dooku. Count Dooku was, if Leia remembered correctly, the only man who had ever defeated Ben in single combat. At least before Vader had killed him, and Leia understood now that there was more to that defeat than she could really comprehend.

So why had Dooku fallen?

What did it mean to fall?

It was hard not to think about it. All her life she had leapt before she looked, but now she felt like she was edging closer and closer to a yawning canyon, and if she did not stop now then she would tip head first into the abyss.

She wished she could be like Luke. He always knew what to say and what to do, and he never made a choice without understanding the consequences.

But she  _wasn't_  Luke. She could not think so much about what might happen if she failed, if she fell, if she faltered. There was no point. She had to keep going.

If her entire life had been leading up to this, where her choices were narrow and her morals were thinning, then she felt like she might finally understand Ben. She didn't know if she was ready for this, but it didn't really matter.

Because she had to be ready for this.

She had to keep going.

What would her father do?

Leia halted. She rested her shoulder against a wall and blinked rapidly. Her father, the Jedi knight. The Hero with No Fear. What did that mean, anyway? Had her father been like her, always leaping, never looking?

Once she had asked Ben about it. Ben, who always remarked upon their similarities.

It had been a dim evening, the air in Ben's hut stale and muggy from baking all day in the heat. Ben had peered at her, his fingers twisting among the graying whiskers on his chin.

"You are like him," he had admitted, "in more ways than I can count. But sometimes I look at you— sometimes you speak… and I swear, it is your mother speaking."

"My mother?" Leia had reeled at this, springing forward eagerly to gather up every last drop of information Ben might give her. "You've never said anything about her before. I didn't even know you knew her!"

Ben's eyes glimmered, and Leia had swallowed back all her burning questions with a dissatisfied smile. The look about him then had been the look he got when she pried too much about her father. His eyes grew watery and dazed, cast far away from her face. She understood then as she understood now that Ben was never truly all there. He had left a crucial part of himself in the past. Dropped it, perhaps, when her father had died.

Or maybe that part of Ben had just died with Anakin Skywalker.

"I knew her well," Ben had said, recovering as he always did. With grace and poise, yet deflecting every chance he got to elaborate. "She was the kindest woman I've ever known. Generous, steadfast, willful. So very like you, Leia. She, too, liked to stick her nose into anything she deemed problematic."

At that Leia had huffed, and slid back into her seat. "Is that such a bad thing?" she'd argued.

Ben had merely smiled at her, a newfound warmth spreading over his face.

"No, Leia," he had said softly. "Compassion is never bad. Do not lose that touch of it— it is, I think, the most remarkable thing about you."

Now she wondered. Had she lost that thing that Ben had been so proud of?

What did it mean if she cut Vader down today? Should she be glad that perhaps the greatest trial of her life was nearing an end? Should she be worried that killing her enemy might send her down a slippery slope? Should she be focusing on freeing Luke and Han before all else?

Luke. She had to find Luke.

Tentatively, she extended a nudge in the Force for him. She waited, breathless and uncertain. There was no nudge back.

 _Something is wrong_ , she realized immediately, pressing her back to a wall and peering around a corner.

She could feel how wrong it was, but she couldn't grasp why. It was like there were thorns between them, and when she reached out toward him, the Force was ensnared. It yowled, twisting and writhing and tangling itself deeper in the briars.

There was no way, of course, she could fit the four of them in her X-Wing. Chewie alone could barely fit in it. She would have to steal a ship if she planned on getting anywhere, and that took so much time. Of course, the  _Falcon_  should be around somewhere. Maybe she could get that running.

"Artoo," Leia whispered into her comm. "Artoo, come in."

The little droid warbled into her ear curiously.

"Oh, hush," she sighed, glancing around her nervously. "I need you to find the  _Falcon_. Get her engines hot. And if you have to, leave without me."

Artoo's whistling was rapid and panicked. Leia swallowed, and she shushed him furiously.

"Shhh! Shut up, shut up, you big baby!" Leia lowered her gun and rubbed her head. "Ridiculous. Han, Luke, and Chewie are here somewhere. Get them out of here, you hear me?"

Artoo gave an inquisitive blurb, wondering about her wellbeing.

"I'll be fine."

Artoo was not convinced.

"Artoo, I said leave without me if you have to. Only if you have to."

Artoo advised her to keep her comm on her.

" _Fine_." Leia rolled her eyes. "Just get to the ship."

Ben had told her that there was nothing wrong with retreating.

Leia did not know if she agreed.

It would be a surprise for them both, whatever she chose.

* * *

Luke had dozed off at one point or another, and his dreams were of water.

He toed the edge of a lake, his breeches rolled up to his knees. His fingers stretched out and brushed the fat tail of a stalky reed. Algae squished beneath his feet.

"You should go into the water," a honeysuckle voice told him, kissing the back of his neck like a warm breeze.

Beside him, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen appeared. She wore her hair in loose ringlets, and they curved around an elaborate silver headpiece that nestled into a tight twist at the back of her head. Her dress was loose and flowing, as radiant as the water that lapped at his ankles. It was made of some sort of lace, and lightly beaded around the bodice.

"I'm fine here," he said softly, his fingers lingering on the reeds. He wanted to reach out and touch her cheek, perhaps to test if she was really there.

"Oh?" Her dark eyes glittered knowingly, and she kicked off her shoes and hitched up her skirt. "Do you mind?"

"What?" Luke followed her gaze to the water, and he gaped. "Oh! No, go ahead."

She dipped her feet into the cool water behind him. Ripples tickled his flesh. Her shoulders brushed up against his, and she sighed loftily.

"I just love Naboo in the summer," she said, resting her head against his shoulder. Her curls tickled his chin. "Don't you, Anakin?"

"I'm…" Luke found himself squirming a bit. "I'm not. I'm not him."

His mother raised her eyes to him. They were filled with insurmountable sorrow, and yet her lips stretched out in a plain smile, and she cupped his cheek.

"No," she whispered. "You are not."

"Are…" Luke swallowed hard. "Are you real?"

"That's a strange question."

"I mean, are you really Padmé Amidala?" Luke stared into her face desperately. "Or are you just the Force in disguise?"

"I am a dream, my angel," she said, the pad of her thumb dragging across his cheekbone in slow strokes. "My darling boy. My son."

"Please," Luke whispered. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he could not look her in the face. "Please, Padmé. I… I know I am your son, and I love you, but…"

"I know you," she said calmly, undeterred by his hesitation. "I know that there is room in your heart for two mothers, two fathers, a sister, and a planet. Do not pretend that this is about Breha Organa, my sweet."

Luke's gaze flashed to her eyes, and he stared at her desperately.

"You should never have married him," he said, his voice thin. He could hear it breaking apart in his throat. "Why did you marry him? It's not fair. I'd rather I didn't exist than the galaxy be like this."

"People don't fall in love and expect the world to fall apart," Padmé said simply. "You will learn, one day. It is not so simple. Young people do stupid things. Yes, Luke, I should not have married Anakin Skywalker. It was against the rules, and I was putting us both at risk by refusing to be the adult in the situation. But I was scared. I was young. I thought that he might die in a day or a week or a month."

This surprised him. He studied her face, watched her avert her eyes and drop her skirt into the lake. The white lace pooled around her ankles.

"You married him because you thought he would die?" Luke asked carefully.

"That's not the sole reason," she said softly. "I did love him. Know that, above all else, Luke. I did love him once. I wanted to be with him. But it… it all happened so fast. I was swept up in the romance, and I couldn't rationalize— I couldn't approach our relationship logically. I had seen how wars ripped couples apart, when I was young, and I had promised myself to never let myself become one of those wailing women pouring her soul out over whether or not her husband would come home. I guess in a way, I never was. I only wailed once or twice, but that was less about the war and more about you."

"And Leia," Luke said absently.

Padmé smiled. "Yes," she said. "And Leia. Won't you join her?"

Luke followed his mother's gesture toward the middle of the lake where laughter drifted brightly and water sparkled like diamonds as his twin splashed about. A man splashed with her, his hair long and plastered to his forehead. He was pretending to drown, and Leia merely splashed him in the face.

"No," Luke said, his throat tight. "I'd rather stand here."

"Me too."

They stood in relative silence, summer sounds filling his ears. Not for the first time, he was reminded of Alderaan. It hurt all over again, and he felt sick.

"He was good," Luke said softly. "Once."

His mother did not look at him. A slight breeze plucked up her dark ringlets and blew them against her cheek.

"Once," she murmured. "Once he was many things. That is the thing about age, I suppose. It hollows you out until you are a shell of the person you once were."

"You never got the chance to get old," Luke whispered.

Padmé Amidala smiled down at him, and there was trace of bitterness in her full pink lips. Bitterness that Luke sensed had nothing to do with him, or even really to do with the man in the lake who was half-cast in shadow by the glimmer of the midday sun.

"Do not blame him," she told him, "for what happened to me. It was fate, you see, that left me dead. Some trick of the Force that stole me away. I'm not sure. It doesn't matter much now, but it wasn't his fault."

"Please," Luke sighed. "Don't defend him. Not now. Not when…"

He looked toward Leia and the silhouette in the water, but they had both gone with the sun, and now he stood among the reeds with water lapping at his calves and moonlight spilling over his shoulders. His mother was turning cold beside him, and her lace dress spilt like a silken river as wild flowers grew in her hair.

Padmé took his chin in her cold hand, the pad of her thumb resting against the dimple there. She dragged his face so his eyes met hers.

"There's good in him, Luke," she whispered, moonlight gleaming in her eyes and liquifying on her cheeks, "I know it."

He had to swallow back a sore, throbbing lump in his throat that begged to become a wail. His fingers latched onto the sleeve of her gown, and he lowered his head. He lowered it further. He lowered it until it rested on her shoulder, and his eyes became buried in her curls.

"So do I," he gasped, the water lapping up to his knees. "That's what makes it so hard."

Padmé stroked his hair gingerly. Breha and Bail Organa had always done this absently, and the thought made the wail inside his throat bubble up and fall out in a pained, shuddering sound.

"I know," his mother whispered, cupping the back of his head and resting her cheek against his ear. "I know."

The water was at his neck, and he was clinging to his mother with all his might.

"I don't know what to do," he sobbed, "please, tell me what to do!"

Padmé Amidala, the dream of a dream, slipped away beneath the water. A moment later, Luke did too.

He woke with a start, doors whooshing open and Chewie's angry yowl rumbling in his ears. He stumbled to his feet, sleep and tears blearing his vision, and he cut between the Wookiee and the visitor unthinkingly.

"Chewie, no!" Luke shoved Chewbacca's chest furiously. Chewie growled over Luke's head at Lando, whose hands were in the air immediately. On one of the flat slabs nearby, Han was sprawled out, his forearm over his eyes and his breathing shallow.

"I'm here to give you  _good_  news!" Lando gasped, eyeing Chewie nervously.

"Oh, thank the maker!" cried Threepio, who was nothing but a torso propped up against one of the tables. "I was starting to think I would rust away in this horrid place."

Lando frowned at that, but kept his attention on Luke. His eyes were sad, even while he smiled. "Your request has been granted," he said. His voice was tight and thin. "Lord Vader will release Han, Chewbacca, and the droid in exchange for your complete and unconditional surrender."

Chewbacca roared and started forward, but Luke flung his arms out and pushed him back. Threepio had gasped rather dramatically.

"Technically I did have a condition," Luke said, rubbing his eyes as Chewbacca gripped his shoulders and shook his head. "But since you're meeting it, I can't exactly say no, can I?"

"Not really," Lando said grimly. His smile had turned sour, and now he stood grimacing as Chewbacca hovered protectively over Luke.

"I'll be alright, Chewie," Luke said, patting the Wookiee's furry arm soothingly. "Don't worry about me, okay? He's my father. He won't hurt me."

Chewbacca let out a sorrowful moan, and begrudgingly released Luke. He wandered to Han's side with a bowed head.

Luke turned his attention back to Lando. "Any idea what inspired the change of heart?" he asked weakly.

"Your guess is as good as any," Lando said with a shrug. "It's probably better to act quickly before he changes his mind though."

"Yeah." Luke found himself nodding. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and he turned to face Chewie. He'd already scooped Han up in his arms. It appeared as if he'd passed out while Luke had been sleeping.

Before he could wrap his arms awkwardly around them, Lando piped up, "I'll allow you to come along while I escort them back to the  _Falcon_."

Luke's eyes brightened, and in that moment he could have kissed Lando. "Thank you," he whispered. He held out his wrists to be shackled, and Lando blinked down at them vacantly.

"That's not necessary," he said.

Luke stared at him confusedly.

"Don't forget the droid," Lando said, turning on his heel and exiting the room.

"Well," Threepio huffed, "he  _is_  a strange fellow."

Luke followed Lando silently through the halls, Chewie trailing close behind with Threepio at his back and Han in his arms. Luke studied his friend's beaten, bloodied face, and he sighed.

"You're lucky," he told Lando lightly. "If Han were awake, he'd be throwing a conniption."

Lando snorted. "You're telling me?" He jerked a thumb at his chest and said proudly, "I am a seasoned  _veteran_  of the Han Solo Tantrum Committee. If he was awake right now, we'd still be in that cell."

"Yeah, probably."

Lando smiled at Han fondly. The sadness in his eyes had not yet faded. "He's a good guy," he said. He lowered his head guiltily. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. To either of you."

"I know."

Lando's eyes flashed to his. "Do you?" he asked.

Luke smiled thinly.

They stopped in the middle of a hallway, a pair of stormtroopers eyeing Luke dubiously from behind Lando.

"Halt," one of them said. "Why is the prisoner out of his cell?"

"I was escorting the Wookiee and the Captain to their ship," Lando said smoothly, "as ordered."

"That wasn't your order," the one on the left said. "And the boy was to remain in the cell."

"Really?" Lando tilted his head. "Whoops."

He whipped a blaster from under his arm and shot both troopers point-blank, catching them both in the jugular. Luke reeled back with a gasp as Lando plucked up the stormtroopers' blasters and handed one to him. Han jolted awake at the sound of blaster-fire, and his head jerked around confusedly.

"Wha—?" He squinted through the dried blood crusting over his eye. "Lando? The hell?"

"Sorry about that, old buddy," Lando said. "I didn't know they were gonna torture you. I never,  _never_  meant for any of this to happen."

"Why," Han spat through gritted teeth, "the guts on you. I should— Chewie, lemme down— thank you— why, I should put a hole through your head right now and call it a day."

"Han!" Luke shook his head in disbelief. "Shut up. You've been knocked out, okay? Lando's helping you break out."

"He's— wait, what now?" Han had his head in his hand and blinked rapidly at Lando.

"I'm breaking you  _all_  out," Lando said firmly. Luke stared at him with wide eyes, and Lando shot him a firm look. "I am not leaving you with him, Your Highness. I don't care if he's your father, that man is a monster, and you don't deserve that."

"I—" Luke couldn't properly respond. He had already told Vader that he would stay if he let Han and Chewie go. It sounded like Vader had agreed to do just that. Yet Lando was giving him an escape, and Luke knew he would be a fool not to take it.

 _I can deal with my father later,_  he rationalized.  _It's not like I'll never see him again. He'll certainly try to track me and Leia down_.

"Okay…" Luke wasn't so sure about going back on his word, but he was tired and nervous. Facing Vader again felt like a death wish. If he could escape, shouldn't he? "Okay, I'll go—"

He swung his head around, his body snapping to attention as a familiar lurch hit him at once. He felt like gravity had just readjusted after hitting orbit, and as heavy as it was, everything felt right. He stared dazedly at a wall, feeling like he could cut out a portion of it and see a thousand miles past it. He was neither there, nor anywhere.

The clouds had claimed him.

"Yo!"

Luke jumped, the reverie sliding away from his eyes as Han snapped his fingers in front of Luke's face.

"Leia," he choked out.

They all stared at him. He found himself holding his forehead, his breath quickening.

"Leia," he repeated, backing away slowly. "She's here. She's looking for me."

"Is this like…" Lando tilted his head. "A twin thing, or a Jedi thing?"

Han offered a shrug.

"Look, kid," Han said, hobbling a little closer. Chewie supported him. "If Leia really is here, we'll find her. Okay?"

"No," Luke said, " _not_  okay. She's falling for Vader's trap!"

"Well, we can't keep standing here," Lando sighed. "Look, I'm gonna evacuate the building— maybe even the city, I don't know. But we have to get out of here fast."

"Don't leave without Leia," Luke said, taking a step forward and gripping Lando's arms. "Please. Vader can't have Leia."

"But you he can have?" Han snapped.

"I am not a Jedi," Luke said, his voice faint. "I'm not scared of falling to the Dark Side because I have no allegiance to begin with. But Leia's so much more powerful than me. She's a real warrior. If Vader catches me, if he breaks me, and I become his apprentice, then Leia will do what has to be done. But if the opposite happens, I  _can't_." His knuckles were white as he pried them from Lando's arms and bowed his head. "I won't. I'm not that kind of person. I don't even want to kill Vader."

"Now that's crazy," Han remarked.

"Yeah, I know," Luke said, wrapping his arms around his stomach to ward off the ill feeling that had swept over him. "Which is why you're not leaving without Leia."

"We're not leaving without either of you," Han corrected.

"Fine!" Luke threw his hands into the air. "Okay. Either of us."

Han didn't seem entirely satisfied. "Lemme come with you," he said. He stepped forward, and he wobbled. Chewie caught him.

"Absolutely not," Luke said. "I am not taking you anywhere near Vader."

"You're going to find Vader?" Han blurted. "What?"

"He's luring Leia toward him!" Luke shook his head. "I can tell. She's not coming toward me, so she must be going toward him. It's like when he hid his presence from me— he's  _amplifying_  it for her."

Han said nothing. Instead he gaped at Luke, his eyebrows knitting together confusedly.

"I have to find her," Luke whispered. "I have to… I can't let her fight him and not know."

Han's jaw tightened. Perhaps it was easier for him to accept that Luke was Vader's son than that Leia was his daughter.

He inhaled sharply, and he turned his face away. "Be careful," he said quietly.

Luke stared up at him. There was a pit in his chest, not for lack of anything, but because of a familiar bout of dread. He nodded.

And then he turned away and followed the Force. Toward his sister. Toward his father.

* * *

It was as though she had passed through a doorway and entered the swamp again. Everything around her was clear and sound, and yet she felt like she was wading through a miasma and the ground beneath her was shifting.

Where was Luke? He was here somewhere, she knew, but this building was a maze, and her feelings were clouded. She couldn't touch him, not with the Force. Something was blocking her.

Someone.

She was not a fool. She knew what she was approaching.

It was not like it had been on Cymoon 1. She was not seeking him out because she was enraged. In fact, she was not seeking him out at all. The Force was dragging her toward him. No matter what she did, no matter which turn she took, she was yanked closer and closer to the gaping shadow at the pit of this place. It gaped and yawned and slithered closer. All of her instincts were on alert, pleading, screaming, thundering inside her head and her heart for her to flee.

Yet the shadow was seeping into her skin, and she knew that there was no turning back.

Remaining calm was her only option. She'd promised Ben and Yoda that she would return. Even if she had to run away to do that.

But first, Luke and Han.

She suspected if she found one then the other would be close at hand. And Luke  _was_  here. Somewhere.

If she found Vader before she found Luke, what did that mean for her? Would she have to cut the man down before she could free her friends?

She would if she had to, but that was not why she was here. Vader was less important than the safety of her friends.

The hall she had wandered into was an antechamber— wide and round with an uneasy glow about it. She felt the whole world thrumming beneath her feet, and her chest rose and fell unevenly. Her skin was prickling. The world was plunged into unearthly cold, like Hoth torn away from the sun and bathed in eternal night. When her body moved, her bones creaked and groaned in protest, like she had aged several decades in but a few moments. Any minute hoarfrost would gather on her lashes, on her lips, among her nostrils, and on the fibers of her clothing.

She found herself stepping up upon a platform, pipes hissing and knocking around her. The metal creaked beneath her weight.

Her father's lightsaber weighed heavily in her hands as she stared into the stark black mask of Darth Vader.

"You would do best to put down your weapon and listen, child," Vader told her.

She did not blink.

Her lightsaber hissed as it ignited, spilling blue all across the floor.

Vader's shoulders sloped. He dipped his head, and let one arm slip beneath his cape.

"This is a folly," he warned her.

She stepped forward. In one sweeping movement she slid into her usual Soresu form, arm extended, blue blade pointed at Vader's chest, and two fingers hovering near her eye.

The sight of this caused a wave of unfettered rage to rip through the air, boiling in the Force and melting the frosty residue of his entrance with hellfire and plasma.

"Enough," Vader growled, stepping forward. His lightsaber slid into his hand, and everything was awash in red. Not even the hum of her lightsaber, not even its cool blue glow could reassure her.

She blocked the first blow, but buckled beneath it. It sent a shockwave up her arm, and she feinted right as he lifted his saber for a millisecond to strike her again. Her feet slid across the floor, and her head slipped beneath the arcing blade. It whirred as it missed her, shivering as Vader redirected it. She lifted her own blade to block his upward strike at her chest, and found herself twisting rapidly to reach his flurry of blows.

If he was trying to tire her out with this ceaseless barrage of hits, it would not work.

Leia broke the collision of their sabers first and pushed forward, slicing at the air between his arms. He blocked, and she slid closer, taking every movement swiftly and driving her lightsaber forward. It battered his, twirling between her fingers as she delivered blow after blow. He stepped back, and she slipped beside him, cutting low toward his knees.

Red met blue in a shock of color, an unsteady hiss and crackle sizzling through the air. He had just barely caught her before she'd sliced through his leg. His calf had an odd welt smoldering into the cloth from where she had knicked him.

They stared at one another for a moment. Sweat poured onto her forehead, burning her eyes. She could see his arm shaking, his wrist bent at an awkward angle. The port of his prosthetic arm was probably digging painfully into his skin.

"Impressive," Vader said. His voice was low and slow. It hardly betrayed his discomfort.

And yet, Leia knew.

"I'm not here to impress you," she hissed.

"No." Vader watched her. "You are here to save your friends. Perhaps if you listened to me, you might have an easier time."

Leia gritted her teeth and pushed off his saber, whirling around and striking at him once more. Her lightsaber battered at his defenses, and she swung with a wide and precarious reach, her body darting forward fast. She felt him buckle under the speed and pressure of her blows.

There was a brief moment where Leia realized she could end all of this.

All she had to do was act.

 _Don't think_ , said something inside her. It slithered around her throat and clenched her muscles tight as she bore down another blow, and then another, every motion blending into the other.  _Just do it. Do it. Kill him._

Leia choked on a yell as she was kicked, the wind tearing from her lungs as she collapsed onto her back. Pain throbbed through her ribs, a pressure building in her chest as he blinked stars from her eyes and rolled back onto her feet. Her breath was labored now, and her lightsaber shook jerkily as she pointed it up at him from her perch on the ground.

"Put down your weapon," Vader told her coolly. "Enough of this."

Leia bared her teeth at him. She did not deign to reply to him. Instead she glanced around her, surveying the surroundings of the vacuous chamber. She realized that the room was part of the trap. There was a hole at the center of the platform below. Various pipes and channels lined the walls.

As Vader approached her slowly, his red blade glowing ominously at his side, she leapt to her feet. In one swift movement, she jumped up onto the rail, balancing easily on the balls of her feet, and then pushed off onto the platform below. Her blade struck out, clashing with the pipes and causing an unholy hiss to sputter around her. Steam and smoke came rolling out like tumultuous clouds, filling the room and creating a screen between herself in Vader.

 _I can't,_  she thought,  _I can't kill him. I have to find Luke, Han, and Chewie. I don't have time for this!_

His presence was hard to miss. They felt for one enough in the haze, his dark mass of foul energy swooping closer as her well of light scattered beneath the pressure. She slipped away from him as the groggy glow of his saber cut through the smoke beside her. The white tufts were sucked in by the air vacuum, and then dispersed. His cape fluttered and his mask became half visible in the screaming miasma.

She flung her lightsaber up as he rushed her, his blade coming down hard on hers. Her knees buckled, and she crouched to hold her ground.

"Did you think that trap was going to hold me?" she asked him, staring straight into his mask and keeping her face clear of emotion.

"I had hoped it would not be necessary."

Leia pushed off from his lightsaber and ducked away, slipping back into the great flume of smoke. The Force tugged her forward, pulling her toward a cool and open area. She broke out from the wall of smoke with a gasp, twisting around to glance behind her worriedly as she fled. It was a long corridor, long and cylindrical and vacuous.

It was frightening, how suddenly everything she had been taught seemed to vanish the moment panic set in. Like Ben, Ahsoka, and Yoda had done nothing. Like she was running forever into oblivion, and there were no stars to light her path.

Leia stumbled to a stop before a large window. Light filtered through it and splashed upon her face. She breathed heavily, and turned her head to face Vader. He had approached her slowly from behind. His head was tipped downward.

"Look inside yourself, Leia," Vader said. The sound of her name in his mouth made her want to choke. "Your destiny is with me."

"My destiny?" Leia's body tensed up, and she gripped her lightsaber in both hands as she spat at him. "My only destiny is to  _end_  you, and your tyrannical empire!"

Leia started forward, feeling a subtle shift in the Force. She used both hands to slice a displaced bit of machinery that he had hurtled at her with the Force in half. He took advantage of this distraction and moved closer.

"Obi-Wan has lied to you," he said. He reached out, and Leia jerked away from him. Her back bumped up against the window, and for a moment she found herself seized with terror. He had tried to grab her. He had nearly touched her. It wasn't because they were sworn enemies. Vader  _wanted_  her for something.

Leia twirled the lightsaber in her hands, and she struck the glass behind her blindly. It screeched before it shattered, sucking her backwards into a wind funnel. She found herself spinning, her breath caught in her throat and her stomach torn out of her abdomen. The Force cushioned her fall, folding itself around her like a blanket, but she still slid into a bed of glass. It sliced open her cheek and skidded into her right bicep and thigh.

"Damn," she hissed, licking her lips and tasting blood. Yoda would not be pleased when he saw the state of her.  _Under control, you had it, hm?_  Leia gritted her teeth as she pushed herself shakily to her feet. What a joke.

She peered around at her surroundings, and she realized her mistake. She had trapped herself inside a massive, empty reactor shaft. She had no idea where she might find Luke. She could not sense him from here. All she could feel was the numbness of standing under Vader's shadow, shrinking slowly by the second into oblivion.

Her steps were labored and arduous. Pain shot up her leg as she walked. She glanced over her shoulder in mild horror as Vader landed on the platform behind her. She held her lightsaber in shaky hands, and took a deep breath. Then she cast her fear out into the Force.

 _Father_ , she thought, the cool metal of the long dead man's lightsaber biting into her palms.  _Give me strength_.

Vader lunged at her, and she threw her saber up, blocking him haphazardly and buckling beneath the weight. She thought about pushing him away with the Force, but she could hear Yoda chiding her in her head to reel in her fear, her anger, and she did not trust herself to keep her mind clear.

"Stop fighting me, child," Vader hissed.

"I'll keep fighting you until I die!" Leia declared, slipping away from him and backing into a rail. Her breathing was a bit uneven.

He attacked once more, his blade flickering wildly as it came thundering down in a series of quick, hard blows. Leia could hardly keep up with them, her blue blade whirring around her in sweeping arcs. Her back dug into the rail behind her, and she was keenly aware of the pit below. She knew it must lead somewhere, but she was not sure if she was ready to brave that mystery yet.

The platform vibrated beneath the hum of their lightsabers. They collided once more, smashing into one another and shivering as they locked. Leia looked up at Vader, and she could feel her hands shaking. Her muscles were quivering. He was bending her arms downward. He was beating her.

"Stop!"

Both Leia and Vader froze. Now the sound of thundering footsteps became audible, and Leia gasped as Vader was yanked back an inch or so by his cape.

"Stop it!" Luke Organa's voice cried. "Let her go!"

" _Luke_?" Leia gasped, blood dribbling into her eye and obscuring her vision. She tried to peer around Vader to get a good look at her friend, but the man was too big.

Vader swung his arm around, and Leia let out a scream of dismay as Luke was thrown to the ground with the Force.

"You are a  _fool_  to come here," Vader spat. "Who released you from your cell?"

Leia pushed Vader back while he was distracted and ducked away from him, swinging widely at his side. He blocked it hastily, their blades meeting and pushing apart rapidly. Leia flung herself away, slipping into an unsteady Ataru stance.

She remembered a long time ago in the desert, watching in fear and desperation as her own master had slipped between Soresu and Ataru to defeat his foe. He had gone back to his roots, he'd told her later.

Leia had no roots. She came from the desert, and the desert was barren.

Vader focused on her, his blade glowing ominously like a spire of blood humming uneasily. His blade curved through the air, and Leia lunged to catch it, her body throbbing dully under the stress of the action. Their blades whirred and spat, colliding in a flurry of blows, and Leia pushed back with a gasp. Her back hit the rail behind her, and Vader came swinging, bearing down on her blade with all his strength.

"Stop it!" Luke cried from somewhere behind Vader. Leia found her grip slipping, and she ducked aside, stumbling as Vader's blade carved through the rail.

"Luke," Leia gasped, holding up her blade defensively as she backed away from Vader. He swung at her again, and she lurched away, throwing up her arm to shield her face from a spattering of sparks that coughed up from the collision of the blade and a metal beam. "Go! Get away from here!"

"Leia—" Luke sounded strange. There was a mournful quality to his voice. He sounded like he might burst into tears. "You don't understand— just  _stop_ , both of you—!"

Leia hissed as Vader's blade smashed against hers, red and blue blades spitting at one another irritably. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her cheeks, her neck. Blood mingled with her brow, clumped her eyelashes together, began to dry in the grooves of her lips. Sweat pooled in the pocket between her nose and mouth, at her hairline, and beneath her fatigues. Her whole body was a livewire, and it was sparking uncontrollably. Half of her limbs were aching terribly, blood coagulating against the threads of her clothes. She caught another blow, and swiped upward, throwing Vader back a step.

Luke was suddenly at Vader's side, his arms up and his mouth agape.

" _Please_ ," he gasped, reeling back as Leia blocked another sweeping blow. She stepped back into an open platform, a gantry that had no railings and a narrow walkway. She eyed the railing as she ducked, watching Vader carve a pillar in half. Sparks skittered around her, dancing in her eyes. "Stop. Listen to me!"

Leia let out a wordless, terrified scream as Luke flung himself between her and Vader. She moved her arm back so her lightsaber was as far from him as possible, and she grabbed the silky material of the back of his shirt.

Vader did not falter.

It happened so fast, and Leia heard herself screaming without processing that the terrible sound was coming from her throat. Luke stumbled back into her, half falling as his pained, desperate yell fell in broken rasps from his lips.

"Luke," Leia cried, turning off her lightsaber in a daze and instinctively attaching it to her hip. She watched him stare at the smoking stump of his arm in horror, his lips moving with only small, shaky breaths coming out. "Luke!"

Leia found herself scrambling back, her fingers burning from the force in which Luke was ripped from her hands. Her legs slipped off the side of the narrow platform, and she flung her arms out to the nearest rail and held on for dear life.

"Let him go," Leia choked out, tears filling her eyes.

She saw now what had happened while she had been trying to assess the damage to Luke. Vader had physically swooped forward and snatched him, and then used the Force to make her let got. Now her friend stood in absolute terror, his whole body visibly quaking, as Vader lifted his stump and examined it silently. Luke didn't squirm. He didn't run. Vader wasn't even holding him tightly.

"Don't  _touch_  him," Leia cried, reaching for her lightsaber.

"Leia," Luke whispered. His voice was hoarse. His face was pale as a sheet. "I tried to warn you. I didn't— I don't—!"

"Enough," Vader said, pushing Luke behind him. He took a step forward and extended his hand. "Leia, come with me. Join me, and together we can overthrow the Emperor, as I know you wish to."

"I want to overthrow the entire Empire, not just him!" Leia's eyes darted to Luke's shaky form, which peeked out from behind Vader's arm. He looked miserable, and sick. Like he might pass out at any moment. "Let Luke go. It's me you want, isn't it?"

"I want you both," Vader said. He turned off his lightsaber, much to Leia's alarm, and planted a hand on Luke's shoulder.

She could tell by his face that he was not happy about that at all.

But when she moved to unhook her lightsaber, Luke gave her a sharp look. So, reluctantly, she let it slide from her fingers.

"I'm never gonna join you," she declared, balancing on the platform and glaring at him. "Luke won't either. So you can forget it, okay? I won't betray the people I love like you did!"

Luke winced. Possibly because Vader visibly recoiled, anger gathering around them like storm clouds. He probably was squeezing Luke's shoulder too tightly.

"Whatever Obi-Wan told you," he hissed, "he  _lied_."

"Stop," Luke whispered.

"He told me everything I needed to know!" Leia stood up straighter, and she steadied herself on the platform again. "You betrayed him. You betrayed my father. You murdered both of them!"

Luke sucked in a breath, as though her words had sliced through his ribs and struck him in the heart.

"No," Vader said, his voice very low and very slow. "He lied. I am your father, Leia."

She blinked rapidly. She found herself frozen, like her blood had turned to cement and her face to plaster. She could not think, or even really breathe.

"What?" she finally choked out. A daze had fallen over her, and her head was spinning wildly. It might just fall right off.

"This is why I told you to let me talk to her first," Luke hissed, squeezing his severed hand under his arm.

Leia's eyes darted to his face. " _What_?" She held her head in both her hands. "Luke, what do you mean? He's— he's not telling the truth. He can't be telling the truth."

"Search your feelings," Vader said, leaning forward. Luke grimaced. "You know it to be true."

"I'm sorry, Leia," Luke whispered. She saw the tears glimmering in his eyes. "I didn't know, I swear— not about you, anyway. I would have said something otherwise." He bowed his head, and sucked in a shaky breath. "I should've said something anyway. I was a fool."

Leia's back bumped up against the rail behind her. She found herself shivering.

"What," she said, her voice small and cold, "do you mean? None of this makes any sense. Vader can't be my father. My father was Anakin Skywalker— he was a hero. He was a Jedi!"

"He was," Luke gasped, cutting Vader off as he began to speak. "Anakin Skywalker  _was_  a hero, and a Jedi! Don't let Vader trick you into believing he wasn't!"

"Quiet," Vader hissed, yanking Luke closer and causing him to yelp. "It will do no one any good to deceive the girl. I am what I am. One day you will understand."

Luke ignored him, tears wet on his cheeks and thick in his voice. "Anakin Skywalker was married to Padmé Amidala, Leia. The woman in that holo that I always watch? Padmé Amidala was my mother.  _Our_  mother."

Leia stared at him. Her lips fell open, and then they closed thinly. She dragged her hands over her eyes, and she shook her head.

"You— I—?" She sunk down to the balls of her feet and buried her mouth into her knees. Her fingers knotted in her hair. "What is happening…? What the hell is happening?"

"You have nowhere to go," Vader pointed out. "Your brother has already surrendered, under the condition I release Captain Solo. You may join him in surrender, or submit under force. It is your decision."

"No!" Luke gasped, a sob in his throat. "Let her go. You already have me, so just let her go! You've done enough damage!"

Leia looked up. She met Luke's eye, and saw the terror and the pain that glistened there. He watched her helplessly. He was  _pleading_  with her.

 _Go_ , his eyes were telling her.  _Get as far from him as you can. Do this for me. Save yourself_.

Leia couldn't move for a moment. She wanted nothing more than to take her father's lightsaber and cut this pretender down. To free Luke— her  _brother_ , a fact that rang true in her heart like a beacon of light.

But he wanted her to escape. He needed her to escape. Without him. How could she leave him? How could she possibly go anywhere without her best friend, her brother, the person who, she realized, she had entered the world with?

"Let us trade places," Leia said, lifting her eyes to Vader as she stood up straight and tall. "You can have me if you let Luke go."

"No!" Luke cried. He was cradling his missing arm. He was crying freely, looking ready to topple over at any second. He needed a medic, and fast.

"No," Vader agreed, tugging Luke as close as he dared. Luke made a strangled sound, clearly not appreciating being yanked about by the man who had just cut off his hand. "I will have you both. There will be no bargaining, Leia. You are out of options."

Leia bared her teeth at him in some mocking semblance of a grin.

"Yeah?" Leia flung out her arms. "You think so?"

She saw Luke's eyes widen. And then his face melted in a strange amalgamation of fear and relief. He smiled at her faintly, and gave a little laugh as she tipped backwards, arms still extended.

The air swallowed her up, and it howled as she fell.


	9. breathe in deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK! okay final chapter, guys! how exciting. i hope it doesn't disappoint! minor warning for some violence, though i don't know if it's any worse than anything else that's happened so far.
> 
> so obviously since this is the final chapter of the empire strikes back portion of this au (what!!), i should talk about what i'm going to do next. i have about three weeks left of this semester (WHAT!!), and therefore I am going to be INCREDIBLY busy until probably about when the last jedi comes out. however i'll try to write as much as i can in the mean time. the next story will probably be the final fic in this saga, but also probably the longest since it spans a bit beyond the timeframe of return of the jedi. as in, i'll probably pick up right where this fic leaves off. make sense?
> 
> well, enjoy!

He could hear his own unsteady breaths as he was wheeled forward, lights dancing blearily before his eyes. Air knifed through his lungs, and it pooled in the dry crevices of his tongue and cheeks. He licked his lip, and he tasted salt. The space between his mouth and nose was damp. His cheeks were damp. His eyes were damp.

Vader barked orders, but Luke did not hear words. He stood shakily, his eyes trailing magnetically back to his stump, and he felt a surge of nausea.

The lights, the lights. The white halls and luminescent lights were burning his eyes, and he felt like he had died and come back, died and come back, at least half a dozen times.

"Luke!" Vader snapped, shaking his shoulder. The action caused Luke to scramble backwards, an involuntary shout tearing from his lips. He backed up right into a stormtrooper. "Look at me when I am speaking to you."

Luke tried. He blinked up at Vader, his head bobbing as it weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he tried to look Vader in the mask.

He couldn't quite find where Vader's mask was.

Vader reached out again, and Luke flinched. He shoved his stump beneath his arm, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

The blow did not come.

Luke exhaled, and it sounded so loud that he wanted to cry. His breaths rattled in his chest.

"Luke." This time, Vader's voice was quieter. Luke's eyes fluttered open. Vader had taken a significant step back. Relief poured into him. "The injury is superficial at best. We will get you a new one."

Through the dizziness, through the throbbing, agonizing pain and fever aches, he gaped at Vader in complete revulsion.

"Ex— ex _cuse_  me?" Luke choked, his voice shuddering like glass in a storm. "This—  _this_  is a superficial injury?" He flung out his cauterized stump, revealing the round, blackened seal that still smelled vaguely of burnt meat. One nearby stormtrooper took a visible step back. "That's my hand. It's not a lost toy that you can just— just replace— that's my  _hand_!"

"Yes," Vader said. His voice was cold and dead. "It was your hand. And you will get a new one. Limbs are replaceable. Lives are not. Come along."

Luke was shoved forward after Vader, and his legs finally gave out as though protesting Vader's indifference. His knees hit the floor, and in shock he flung out both arms. One palm smacked the tile while the other hung in a ghostly absence. The imbalance caused him to topple onto his side.

He felt as though his whole life had been hardship upon hardship, and each blow had been swung by the hand of Vader. It was an awful feeling, when all sense of control got torn away the moment a dark shadow approaches.

Luke felt Vader swoop down, and in a panic, he skittered away. "No," he gasped, throwing his single hand out helplessly. "No, I can— I'll stand. Give me a moment. I can get up. I can. I can stand."

Vader hovered over him for a moment, and Luke sucked in a deep breath. He knew his fear was swirling around him like a sweat-soaked miasma in the Force. He was close to tears again. Everything in him was crying out, wishing for the familiar white and silver façade of the palace on Alderaan, with his floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the mountains. He wanted to feel the morning sun on his face, and taste the cool, frigid air that claimed the dawn.

He wanted to curl up on his father's balcony and cry into his shoulder as he dragged his fingers through Luke's hair and whispered, "It'll be alright, Luke. Don't be afraid, Luke. I'm right here, Luke."

In attempt to quell the surge of despair that clawed up from within him, Luke lifted his head and stared into Vader's face.

It was only then that Vader stood up straight and turned away.

 _Mama,_ he thought,  _watch over me. Papa, give me strength. Don't leave me here alone. Mother of mountains, I'm scared. I'm scared. I'm scared!_

Luke forced himself to stand upright. He wobbled forward, and collapsed again.

This time, the obscenely bright walls and floors and lights consumed his vision, and it all blinked out before he hit the floor.

* * *

Leia slid into the cargo hatch, landing in the arms of a man she did not recognize. She was shivering, her fingers clenching and unclenching from the high altitude, and her breathing was abnormally loud and uneven. For a moment it seemed like the man was about to make a sly joke at her expense, his eyebrows cocked and his lips curled in a smirk.

And then he got a look at her face, and his hold on her shifted. He gripped her shoulders and searched her expression.

"Are you alright?" he asked. His voice was slick— a smooth as butter drawl fashioned from the same metal as Han's. But there was a genuine quality to it that shocked her, especially since he was a stranger.

"Let go of me," she hissed, blood in her teeth as she bared them at him. His hands lifted from her shoulders and were proffered in surrender.

For a moment she stood in the  _Falcon's_  hold, blood and tears drying on her cheeks. She felt ill. Her arm was growing numb, and she'd been rubbing it since she had gotten into the  _Falcon._  None of the feeling would return.

Artoo came rolling in with a series of hysterical beeps. Leia listened to him as he told her she was an idiot for leaving him behind, that she looked terrible, that he loved her, he loved her so much. He rolled up to her leg and nudged her.

She stroked the droid's dome, rubbing its smooth top and frowning. She could feel an outside presence hammering on her shields. Was it Luke?

Could she risk it? Would she risk it?

Tentatively, she parted the iron curtain that had been laid out for her since childhood. She remembered her lessons on shielding from Ben in the desert. She remembered how Maul had not even known she'd been alive until making herself apparent.

Suddenly a voice like coal rattling inside a tin cart boomed inside her head.

 _Leia_ , Vader gasped.

She must have yelled, because the unknown man gave her a startled look as she clamped her hands over her ears.

She did not know how to project to anyone except Ben. Her heart was beating hard against her ribs, and she turned around and around hopelessly, her nails biting into the back of her ears.

"Get out," she murmured, "get out, get out, get out."

 _Leia,_  Vader repeated. His voice was louder. It clapped like thunder in her skull.  _Join me, Leia. You know where you belong._

Her chest rose and fell erratically. She tilted her head back, and she stared at the ceiling desperately. Why? Why was this happening to her?

"Give me back my brother, you monster," she hissed.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and she closed her mind shut tight. Every curtain, every wall, every foundation, river, mountain, dust storm, landslide, sinkhole, and labyrinth that she could visualize was thrown down in an instant, throwing Vader's seeping, booming, oppressive presence out of her head and into the abyss.

When he was gone, she stood for a moment simply breathing. She had to drag her hair back from her face and hang her head back for a few seconds, staring up at the ceiling and basking in the silence.

"Well, if it isn't my lady knight," came a familiar drawl.

Leia dropped her head and turned to face Han. He leaned against the doorway and watched her, a smirk upon his lips and a glint in his eye. She did not miss the swollen cheek, the blackened eye, the open wounds. A pang of worry imbedded itself into the well of terror in her heart.

"I'm not your lady," Leia said quietly, "or your knight."

Han smiled vaguely at her, and he shrugged. "Well, "my knight" sounds better than, "my snooty little farm brat," doesn't it?"

Leia stared at him, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Even now. Even now! How was he still so ridiculous even  _now_?

"I can't believe you," she told him frankly.

"Hey," Han said with a grin and another shrug. "I'm just a humble man, makin' a meager living. I was doin' just fine before I met you crazy kids." He said these things, echoing a sentiment he'd had early in their friendship, but when he said it now it sounded so fond that it shocked her. His eyes lit up, and he snapped his fingers. "Where  _is_  twin number two? I got a bone to pick with him for running off on his own."

Leia froze. At first she had not really understood what he'd said. It had not occurred to her yet that she and Luke were twins. She just— there hadn't be time.

But how had Han known that?

Before she could ask, the thought of Luke really filled her head.

It filled her heart.

His face floated behind her eyes.

And Leia, inexplicably, began to cry.

She clamped her hand over her mouth shakily, and she turned away.

Han was silent as he watched her rub her face furiously. She scrubbed beneath her eyes and gritted her teeth.

"No," Han said finally. His voice was faint. When Leia looked at him, she saw that his face had drained of color. "No way."

"He…" The unknown man spoke up uncertainly. "Don't tell me that Vader— that he killed him…?"

Leia wiped her face on her dirty sleeve, and she shook her head furiously. "No," she murmured. "No, Luke's not dead. Just…"

Leia bit her lip and cast her gaze behind her. Anger shot through her, and her fingers closed into fists.

"I'm going to kill him," she whispered. Both Han and the unknown man exchanged looks of equal dismay. "I'm gonna kill Vader. How— how  _dare_  he—!"

Leia kicked a wall, and she found herself screaming in frustration. Han hobbled— to her astonishment— to her side and grabbed her by the arm.

"Let go of me!" she snapped, tearing her arm away and glaring at him. "You idiotic men! Do you think I need you to hold me? No! I need my brother. I need Luke, and he's with Vader now, and it's all my fault! Don't you get it? I messed up, and Luke paid the price."

Han held his arms up, but he didn't step back. He watched her carefully.

"Leia," he said, his voice softer than she expected. "Luke won't want you beating yourself up over— over escaping. Trust me, it's what he wanted. So just take a deep breath. Calm down. We'll get him back."

"But he won't be the same," Leia gasped, shaking her head. "He won't— he won't be Luke anymore…"

It dawned on her, the horror of it all.

Anakin Skywalker, the man of her many dreams, the hero of her childhood fantasies, was a monster. And, if Luke's insistence was anything to go by, he wasn't always a monster.

Suddenly every warning Ben and Yoda had ever given her rang inside her ears. Tears flooded her eyes, and she leaned her back against a wall.

"Oh no…" she moaned. "What have I done…?"

Was this how Ben felt?

"Lando," Han said quietly, "can you give us the room?"

The unknown man, Lando, gave a jerky nod. He was watching her with varying degrees of confusion and pity.

Once Lando was gone, Han crouched down on the floor. Leia stared at him vacantly, and he cocked his head.

"What?" he asked with a scoff. "I just got tortured, starshine. I ain't standing, and neither should you. Come on, let's chat.

"Han," Leia whispered, "Han, not now. Can't you just leave me alone?"

"Am I your friend, or am I not?" Han asked her with a piercing gaze. She gaped at him, realizing how utterly serious he was.

"That's not a fair question!"

"It is the  _simplest_  question I could ever ask you, Leia!" Han sneered, and then he shook his head. "Okay, you know what? I'll give you a pass, since whatever just happened to you was real traumatic. But seriously, sit down and talk to me."

"I don't want to talk!"

"You  _have_  to," Han snapped, "or you are gonna be in an awful state between screaming and crying for days. I can't take that. I won't."

"I'm not—!" Leia cried, affronted and hurt that he'd accuse her of being so volatile. "What— how dare you—!"

"Leia!" Han clapped his hand against the floor twice. "Sit with me. Talk to me. I need to know."

"It's personal," she said, her voice growing quiet. "It's— not for you to hear. It's my own issue."

"Like that Luke is your twin brother and Vader is your dad?" Han quirked an eyebrow, and he smirked when she gaped at him. "Yeah. I know. I don't care that he's your father, Leia, it doesn't bother me. But I know it bothers  _you_ , so please just sit your ass down and tell me how you feel!"

Leia sunk down to the floor, still gaping at him. She pulled her knees up to her chin and blinked rapidly.

"How… how did you find out?" she whispered.

"I was in the room when Luke told Vader."

Leia almost choked on her own spit.

"Excuse me?" She stared at Han in disbelief. "He… what?"

Han laughed a little, and he rubbed his cheek. The one that wasn't swollen. "Yeah, that kid's got some real balls." Han smiled fondly, and he looked at her. His eyes were warm despite the bruise swelling one shut. "He just told Vader off, getting in all these jibes, mocking him for not noticing that he looks just like Anakin Skywalker. When I tried telling Vader how it was, I got these." Han gestured to his mottled face.

"Luke looks like Anakin Skywalker?" Leia whispered.

"Apparently?" Han shrugged. "I mean… I guess. It was a long time ago, but from the holos… sorta. A little bit. The chin, maybe."

"You don't know what Anakin Skywalker looks like," Leia scoffed.

"I do too!" Han looked defensive as he shrugged his shoulders up to his ears. "I just didn't talk about it because I didn't want you giving me a lecture on the Force, okay? Listen, sweetheart, anyone with eyes and some grasp of basic vocabulary who was alive during the Clone Wars remembers them. I was nine. Of course I know the Hero With No Fear."

"You're joking." Leia glared at him. "You never thought to mention that? Ever?"

"I didn't know him personally, okay?" Han rolled his eyes. "I just saw the holos. We all did. He was a great mouthpiece for propaganda. Makes sense, I guess, if he was Vader. But yeah, he sorta looked like Luke. A bit."

"Do you know Padmé Amidala?" Leia asked tentatively. She didn't know why she was asking Han of all people, but now that she knew her mother's name, her mind was reeling.

Han sucked in a small breath, and he rocked back onto his hands.

"No," he admitted. "I was nine. I knew her name, heard her in passing, but politics weren't my first priority. I'm sorry."

She lowered her head, but kept her cool. She nodded slowly.

"Rex might know," Han said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Leia's eyes brightened. " _Rex_!" she gasped, her whole heart surging with hope. "Of course! My father's—" Her expression darkened, but she pushed on. "Anakin Skywalker's right hand man. He'd know my mother. Did Luke ever speak to him about her?"

"He kept her real quiet, didn't he?" Han tilted his head. "He only really spoke about her when we walked in on him watching her holos. And even then he just said she was his political inspiration, or whatever, not his mother."

"If we can…" Leia bit her lip. "Maybe… Could we use Padmé to combat Vader?"

Han stared at her blankly. "I'm not following," he said.

"I want to make Vader miserable," Leia said. "How can I taunt him with the memory of Padmé Amidala?"

"Ooh," Han said, his lips parting in a bright smile. "Oh, you're cruel. I like it."

Leia found herself smirking, and she leaned back. "Well," she said, "don't get too comfortable. I need to let go of some of this rage, before it hurts me."

"Yuck," Han said rising to his feet. "I get it. You need Jedi time. But don't forget, I want to know what happened."

"Yeah… okay." Now that Leia had sat down, and her heartbeat had returned to normal, she felt drained. Drained, and confused. It was hard to believe she had been so angry a few minutes ago. "Can you tell— um, Lando? That I'm real sorry?"

"Oh, he doesn't care, whatever you did," Han said, waving a hand at her. "He's seen worse."

"Um. Still? Please?"

"Yeah, sure." Han paused at the doorway. He stared at her for a moment, his eyes resting on her face. She stared back with a frown.

"What?" she asked.

His shoulders rose and fell. His face tightened, and then relaxed.

Then he smiled at her, and he said, "We're gonna get Luke back, and he's gonna be fine."

That made her bow her head and close her eyes.

She cast a plea to the Force.

* * *

It was mid-morning and the sun was pooling into an opulent apartment on Imperial center. A young couple was lounging on a couch, curled into one another and laughing. Luke recognized the woman as Padmé Amidala. Her hair was loose and wild about her head, framing her face in smooth ringlets. It reminded him of Pooja Naberrie.

"I am  _not_  naming our child Valenius," the handsome, smirking man said as he sunk into the catch. His voice was unexpectedly cocksure, drawling, and  _young_. Luke realized he was looking at Anakin Skywalker.

Was this another vision from the Force? He could not speak. A dream, then?

"Why?" Padmé teased, a bright smile appearing on her face. "Valenius is a perfectly good name. It was my great-uncle's name. Valenius Naberrie Amidala Skywalker."

"Awful," Anakin said, wrinkling his nose. "Just plain awful."

"Oh, come on! You know I've been thinking about this for months."

"Yes, and you really couldn't come up with something better than Valenius?" Anakin clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head. "Core world educations really are slacking these days."

"Ah!" Padmé snatched a pillow from under her back, and for the first time Luke saw the roundness of her belly from beneath the silk and chiffon that cascaded around her. She smacked Anakin in the face with it. "You try getting your doctorate, mister!"

"Doctor Skywalker," Anakin scoffed. His face melted into an amused smiled. "I'd do it just to see Obi-Wan's face. Can you imagine Obi-Wan's face?"

"A bit like this?" Padmé schooled her features and forced her eyebrows way up. She began to stroke her chin, and put on a rather silly core accent. "Congratulations, Anakin, you've got a bit of paper that cost you thousands of credits."

Anakin continued right where she left off, and his core accent was far worse. "Did you expect me to be impressed?" He stroked his chin as well and waved his hand. "Anyone with half a brain and a notebook can get a degree, Anakin. Just promise me you won't become a politician, won't you?"

"Oh," Padmé gasped, her core accent slipping through her barely contained laughter, "I simply  _loathe_  politicians."

They both burst into laughter and fell upon one another. Anakin rested his head on her stomach as their laughter died down. He stayed like this for a few moments, and he took a deep breath.

"Please don't name our child Valenius," he said.

"Fine." Padmé smiled down at him. She began to stroke his head idly. His hair was wavy and dark blonde, like Luke's. "I have a list. Would you like to hear it?"

"Uh?" Anakin sat up and stared at her eagerly. "What kind of question is that?  _Yes_ , I want to hear it. Come on."

Padmé hummed idly. She rested her head back and began ticking off names on her fingers. "Nabel, Deelon, Rahael, Nemian, Lukka—"

"Lukka," Anakin said. "Luke?"

"Luke?" Padmé repeated. She blinked. "Yeah. That's nice. Luke."

"Good thing it's gonna be a girl, so I get to name her anyway," Anakin said, stretching his arms behind his head. "Names should be simple, pretty, and meaningful."

"You're so sure it'll be a girl," Padmé said, shaking her head. "It's not fair, your name was so easy."

"That's because I had a  _good_  name, Padmé," Anakin said, winking at her.

"No, it's because you're picky."

Anakin snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "You got me there," he said.

They laughed again and leaned into one another. Their laughter echoed in Luke's ears as the world fell into darkness, and he swam in it. He knew nothing. He felt nothing. He was nothing.

And then there was a light on above him. He blinked rapidly.

A human doctor hovered over him, and he felt himself being slowly dragged into a sitting position. His whole body felt like it was floating.

"The anesthesia will wear off," the doctor said. Their accent surprised Luke. It was distinctly core. "This model is rather old, and a bit crude, but I assure you once we dock at Mustafar, we will send for a replacement. Synthetic skin is easy to get ahold of these days. Now, Vader told me he is not aware of your medical history, so I will need you to fill out some forms for me."

"Huh…?" Luke tipped his head to the side. He squinted up at her. "Vader? What? Who… are you? You're not a medic."

"I am a doctor," she said. There were crow's feet at the corners of her kind blue eyes. "So better than a medic. Can you move your fingers on your right hand for me?"

Luke wiggled them uncertainly. The doctor prodded his palm. Luke frowned, and he looked down to see why he did not feel it.

Then he saw the metal, skeletal frame where his hand had once been.

"Oh," Luke said faintly. He remembered everything in a sudden flood, and he felt sick.

"Count for me on your right hand," she said.

"Uh…" Luke grimaced. He stared forlornly at his fingers as he began to count. "One… two… three… four… five…"

"Very good." The doctor smiled at him. "You should be fine. I'll be prescribing painkillers."

"Okay…"

"My name is Dr. Sen Terrion. I will have a stormtrooper escort you back to your room."

"My… room," Luke said.

Terrion eyed him. "Yes," she said. "Your room. Did you expect a cell?"

"Uh…?" Luke winced. What the hell was he supposed to say?

"Well, traitor or no, you're still a prince," Terrion said. "I suppose that must count for something. I don't pretend to understand Lord Vader. Now, off you go. I have stormtroopers to sew back together."

"Uh… right. Thank you."

Luke slipped off the examination chair and stumbled forward. He caught himself with his new hand, and he stared at it in wonder. It was so strange. He felt so strange.

The stormtroopers clapped shackles on him the moment he stepped outside. He was too dazed to really notice, and instead shrunk under the scrutiny of the Imperial officers that watched him as he walked by. He could see the hatred in their eyes. Luke Organa. The rebel prince.

Everyone here hated him. And he hated everyone here.

The room he was given was unexpectedly large. He understood now that he was on a Super Star Destroyer, and that thought made him want to die a bit. This whole experience was reminiscent of his experience on the Death Star, and he was not having it.

There was a bed, a nightstand, a change of clothes, and a small pile of books. Actual books, like he'd had in his library on Alderaan. Luke stroked the spine of one, and he noted it was a history of Naboo Monarchs. He picked it up.

It had been published just before the start of the Clone Wars, he noticed. He flipped through the index and was overwhelmed with excitement at the sight of the last chapter.

_PADMÉ AMIDALA: THE PEACEMAKER_

Luke sat down on the bed tentatively. He understood that there were no datapads or ports to access the holonet because Vader wanted to isolate him, but somehow this made up for it. An entire chapter on his mother. In print, even! He could cry.

As he began to read first-hand accounts of his mother's reign, he sunk into his bed and smiled faintly.

* * *

Leia chewed on her cuticles as she waited at the ramp of the  _Falcon_. She had changed and showered in the interim of hyperspace, and she still felt grimy. As though the swamp had imbedded itself in her. It was much like the feeling of leaving Tatooine. The planet stayed long after the visit.

"You and Han share clothes?" Lando had asked her when she'd exited the fresher in a pair of loose old slacks and a loose white shirt.

"Uh…" Leia had plucked at the shirt and frowned. "I come from Tatooine, so I don't have a lot of clothes. I just steal Han's because it's simpler than buying my own."

"That," Lando had admitted, "is entirely fair."

Han had not said anything when he'd spotted her, so she supposed it was fine.

"Right," Han said, jogging up behind her. "Chewie's powering the old girl down. So we're all in agreement about the whole Vader Skywalker thing?"

"Don't call him that," Leia said sharply. "Anakin Skywalker is dead. That thing is just a shell of a man."

"All the same," Lando said, lowering his chin, "I agree that it's kept on a need-to-know basis. Vader's hurt a lot of people, and it could damage your reputation."

"I don't care about my reputation," Leia muttered. And it was true. She didn't. But she also was uneasy about letting this secret slip. She was supposed to be a Jedi. She was supposed to keep people safe from Vader. What would they think of her if they knew she was his daughter?

His… daughter…

Why the hell wasn't Ben answering her?

"Regardless," Lando said, holding up his hands, "it would be wise to keep this information confidential, no?"

Leia sighed. She didn't know how much she trusted Lando. She got a weird feeling about him, but she didn't read that as necessarily bad. Just mildly untrustworthy. Which, considering how closely he resembled Han in terms of personality, was not all that shocking.

"We need to tell Mon Mothma," Leia said.

"Of course," Han sighed, scratching his head. "Alright. Anyone else?"

Leia chewed on the inside of her cheek, and she glanced down at her hands. "Captain Rex," she said firmly. "I have to tell him what happened to my father. He served with Anakin during the Clone Wars, and… and he took Ahsoka…" Leia took a deep, shuddering breath. It was hard to think about. She believed in her heart that Ahsoka was still alive, and that Vader was keeping her somewhere. Now that she knew Vader's identity, she was even more certain. "He deserves to know."

"Fine." Han folded his arms across his chest. "I draw the line at the  _Ghost_  crew."

"I wasn't planning on telling them," Leia said with a frown. "Though Vader was the one who had Ezra executed. I guess when I kill him, I can remind him of that."

"Shit," Han swore, closing his eyes. " _That_  kid? Really? Damn it, Luke can't catch a break."

Leia did not like to think about Ezra Bridger often. She avoided the  _Ghost_ crew, and danced around the topic when it arose. She remembered Ezra Bridger clearly, as if she were remembering her own face. His warm brown skin and glittering blue eyes. His proud nose and easy smile. It was no wonder to her why Luke had been so enthralled with him. Part of her had been a little enthralled too. He had been a pretty, kind, dedicated boy, with a talent for the Force. Of course she and Luke, who had grown up apart and longing for another half in the swimming, ebbing flow of the Force around them, would be drawn to him.

"Vader will pay," Leia said, meeting Han's eye. "He'll pay for all of it."

Neither Han nor Lando replied.

As the ramp lowered, Chewie and the droids came up behind them. Chewie yowled, and Leia glanced at him curiously.

"She's alright," Han told the Wookiee. "Just a little shaken up. Right, Leia?"

"Right." She took a deep breath. "Just a few scrapes and bruises. Nothing some bacta patches won't help."

"I don't know how you fought Darth Vader, and all you got is some superficial wounds," Lando remarked. He was watching her, and she could tell he was awed.

"Luke distracted him," Leia sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I was losing. Badly. Luke kinda flung himself into the fight and took the brunt of it."

"Luke was hurt when you left him?" Han demanded.

Leia shot him a glare, and he clamped his mouth shut.

It was difficult to wash away the image of Luke crashing into her, screaming as he held the stump where his hand had once been. She felt sick even thinking about it.

Yes. Vader would pay.

The belly of Home One was swarming with rebels. Leia stalked down the ramp and stood for a moment at its base, searching the crowd and bowing her head when her face attracted attention.

"Leia!"

Wedge Antilles was the first at her side, grinning and clapping her on the shoulder. She looked up at him, but had no will to smile.

"Wedge," she greeted tiredly, her shoulders slumping beneath his grip. As he peered at her, his smile slipped away.

"Hey," he said, tilting his head. "You good? You look like you need a medic."

"I'll be fine." Leia's voice was tight as the flickering image of Luke's smoking stump of a hand wavered behind her eyes. She hoped that he was getting medical attention right now. Even Vader wouldn't be cruel enough to deny his own son a medic, would he? "I just need a minute. How did the rest of the evac go?"

"Everything went fine." Wedge scratched his cheek, and his eyes trailed to Han. He straightened up suddenly, his attention shifting rapidly. "Captain Solo! Good to see you back in one piece. We were all worried when the  _Falcon_  didn't reach the rendezvous point, especially those of us Luke selected for his mission. Could I speak with him, actually?"

She had been expecting it. She had been waiting for it. And yet, when the words hit her, she stiffened up. Her eyes glazed over, and she turned her face away from Wedge sharply. Carrying on seemed impossible now. Without Luke supporting them, how could they ever succeed? How could she ever win without his constant reassurance, his sweet-tempered nature, his steely wit and radiant laughter?

"It's…" Han's voice seemed to float away from her. Like he was half a galaxy away, and she was sinking into the void. "It's a long story, but… Luke isn't really…"

"Luke's gone," Leia said. There was no emotion in her voice. No inflection, no tone, not even a subtle hint of fluctuation of pitch. She merely remained stoic and level, her eyes meeting Wedge's unflinchingly. He balked at her words, and took an alarmed step back.

There were suddenly more people. She had been expecting this, but not so quickly. Eyes found her face hungrily, seeking answers that she did not have, searching for wisdom she did not possess. The whole hangar was submerged in fear and worry.

"Wait, what did you say?" asked a petite woman who Leia recognized as Sabine Wren. She looked different than she had the last time they had met. Her warm brown skin was wan and sickly, and her once colorful hair was faded and mute. Matte, bleached out strands of silver and gold curled around her cheeks.

"Luke is gone," Leia repeated, her eyes glued to Sabine's. She realized quickly that the entire  _Ghost_  crew had assembled— or at least, whatever was left of it. Zeb and Hera stood stiffly, shock and rage contorting the Lasat's features while Hera merely closed her eyes. Rex stood on the outskirts of the crowd, resignation written on his old, weathered face. "Vader took him."

" _Vader_?" a sharp, familiar voice gasped, fear ringing true and firm. Leia followed the voice to the round face of Dr. Chelli Aphra, a woman she despised for various reasons. But Luke had a soft spot for her. Like how a child has a soft spot for a rabid dog. "No. No way…"

"If Vader took him," Sabine said darkly, "he's as good as dead."

"Sabine…" Hera murmured, opening her eyes and reeling Sabine closer. Leia noted that Sabine was not wearing her usual Mandalorian armor, and instead sported a white fleece hospital gown. A few others in the small crowd were dressed similarly.

"It's true," Sabine hissed, "and you know it, Hera. Don't pretend like it's not! Luke's dead, or soon to be dead, just like Ezra. Just like Kanan. Just like Ahsoka. Just like  _you_ , if you're not careful!" Sabine's attention settled on Leia, much to Leia's surprise. Her eyes were alight with rage, and her lip trembled in despair. "Nothing good can come from being a Jedi. It just brings Vader, and Vader just brings death!"

All that Sabine said rung true. It rung like a bell inside Leia's head, inside Leia's heart, and she wanted to reach up and claw through her hair and her skin and her skull, beneath her skin and her muscle and her ribs and her blood, and tear it all out until the ringing stopped. She wanted nothing, she needed nothing, not from Vader, not from Anakin Skywalker, and not from this blood-drenched legacy that had been germinated from a lie.

Leia found herself nodding faintly in agreement, but in her head all she saw was Vader clutching her brother, asking her to join him. Luke beside him, begging her to leave him.

"Hey!" Han snapped, taking a step forward and acting as a divider between Leia and the crowd. "You don't know that, okay? Luke's alive, and we're gonna get him back."

"No," Aphra said, her voice simultaneously miserable and oddly contrary. "No, the kid is pretty dead. Trust me. I know Vader. There is no one in this galaxy Darth Vader hates more than Luke Organa. It was sorta what convinced me to join up with him in the first place."

"Vader won't kill him," Leia said quietly.

Everyone looked at her. She knew that they expected her to give an explanation for this, but she had none except for the truth. And the truth was too frightening to say.

"How can you be sure about that, Lieutenant Commander?" Rex asked suddenly. He looked at Leia like she had just told him she would shoot him in five minutes, and in that time he had to say goodbye to everyone he ever knew.

"Because," Leia said, "Vader would never waste Luke's potential like that. He'll use him, abuse him, and then throw him away. So the faster we devise a rescue plan, the better."

"You really think that'll work?" Sabine asked in awe.

"Well, Luke's plan to rescue you worked, didn't it?" Han asked her sharply.

"Actually, we kinda improvised that," Aphra admitted, scratched her head sheepishly. "But really, Solo? You can't compare a small scale prisoner transfer to  _Darth Vader_. I've seen what he does to prisoners. Luke…" She took a deep breath, and for the first time Leia saw in her face true, deep despair. She schooled herself quickly, but the fact remained. "Luke's done for. Just accept it."

"No." Leia stepped forward, and they parted for her. She paused to look around at all of them. Her eyes were cold, and her jaw was clenched. "Now, you will all listen to me. I don't care if you believe that Luke can't be saved. I don't care if you think he's a lost cause, and I am a fool for believing I can get him back. I am going to rip this galaxy apart until the only people left standing are me, Luke, and Vader. And then I'll kill Vader."

She allowed a short pause as they all watched her. She could feel the change in atmosphere. Her rage was bubbling up inside her, and it shook her to her core.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, and found herself squeezing her eyes shut.

 _Calm,_  she tried to tell herself.  _Think calm. The homestead. Breakfast with Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen. Tools in my hands, grease under my nails. Tea with Ben. Green herbal mush, burning in my chest. Ben smiling, chuckling, patting my head, pulling me up from the dust, lifting me from all my mistakes, wiping away my tears. Naboo, and the Lake Country, and the green, green, green, and the blue, blue, blue, and the wafting sweetness of late summer blooms, the reds and the yellows and the purples. Luke plucking one by one, braiding the stems together, and then crowning me Queen of Naboo. Luke. Luke. Luke._

She was jerked from her attempt to meditate, to clear her mind, by the sharp tug of a hand on her shoulder. She was whirled around sharply, and she blinked up into Han's eyes confusedly.

"Leia!" he cried, shaking her desperately.

For a moment she didn't understand. And then she saw the floor around her had dented. A ceiling panel had fallen at her feet.

"Oh." Leia sucked in a deep breath, and she rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Damn it. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Come on, Leia, what the hell just happened?"

Leia shook her head, and she lifted the panel gingerly with the Force. After she secured it back into place, bending it with her mind so it would stay, she bowed her head.

It had always been a threat. She knew it. She'd always known it.

She could end up like Darth Vader. Easily.

All she had to do was give into this boiling rage and hate that festered inside her.

"Nothing," she lied, her voice thick and whispery. She raised her eyes toward the ceiling and took a deep breath. " _Nothing_. I just… forgot myself for a moment."

She saw Vader's mask behind her eyes. The shiny black exterior that reflected her face, allowing no emotion in or out. That man who had once led armies for justice, who had fought side by side with Ben, who had been enslaved on Tatooine.

That man who had created her.

The pressure on her shoulder made her glance up at Han. Beside him was the grim-faced Lando Calrissian, a man who did not know her, yet seemed distraught nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," she said, wringing her hands before her and blinking rapidly. "That shouldn't have happened, and I'm sorry. Okay?"

Han did not answer her. Instead he watched her with a furrowed brow, his hand firm on her shoulder. She looked down at her feet, and she shook her head furiously.

"Rex," she said, taking a step forward and tearing herself from Han's grip. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed how his hand lingered in midair. "I'd like to speak to you in private."

Captain Rex jerked to attention, his eyebrows shooting upwards. "Aye, Lieutenant Commander," he said, saluting her duly as a good officer should.

"Wait," Han gasped, jogging up behind her. She expected him to touch her shoulder again, but instead he simply pointed past her face. "You. You come too."

Leia followed his gaze, and her expression soured considerably. "No," she said coldly.

Han's eyes rolled back into his head before landing on her face. "Don't be stubborn," he told her mildly. "It makes sense."

"It's idiotic, that's what it is!"

A foot away, Chelli Aphra stood with her hands stuffed into her pockets and her face pulled into a tight grimace. Her hair was thrown into a messy knot at the top of her head, and her eyes were flickering between Leia and Han.

"Do I get a say?" Aphra offered weakly.

"No," both Leia and Han told her curtly in unison before whipping back at one another with equal and mighty glares.

"Listen," Han said, holding up his hands in defeat, "I know you've got issues with her. We've all got bad blood with Aphra. But Luke trusted her! He let her lead a rescue mission in his place! And she's the only Imperial defector we've got who ever worked closely with Darth Vader."

"Uh," Aphra said, a spark of panic jolting in her eyes, "yeah, I don't want to be involved in a plot against Vader."

Leia shot her a glare. Really? Did she think she was that important that Vader would prioritize her death out of anyone in this room?

"Well," Leia said stiffly, "when you put it like that, Han, I do see the appeal of getting her opinion."

"Ha!" Han grinned as he clapped his hands together. Aphra groaned as Han ushered her forward. "There ya go, you loon. Time to pull your weight."

Rex stepped up beside Leia, and his presence soothed her nerves a bit. His weathered old face and fluffy white beard was familiar and warm. He reminded her of Uncle Owen at times.

"I'm coming too."

Leia stopped in her tracks and whirled around. She peered past Chewie and Lando, who were following her, and saw the smooth green features of Hera Syndulla. Leia was always struck by her, because she was so alarmingly beautiful, while retaining a sense of warmth and authority. It was honestly a bit inspiring.

"Sorry," Han said, slouching a bit under the intensity of Hera's gaze, "but this is kinda sensitive information."

Hera tilted her head, and her lekku swung from side to side. She placed her fist on her hip, and the corner of her lip quirked upward.

"Oh?" she asked. "Well, all the more reason for me to hear it, as I happen to be the highest ranking officer here. Or did you forget, Captain?"

Leia swallowed back a curse while she and Han met each other's gaze with identical grimaces. They  _had_  forgotten.

"If you must, General Syndulla," Leia said, bowing her head. "But I'll warn you now— it's very personal."

"I gathered," Hera said. She set a hand on Sabine Wren's shoulder, and the young woman nodded. She took a step back and stood beside Wedge while Hera approached them.

Rex led them off into the bowels of the ship. His mismatched armor seemed to glow in the fluorescent lighting of Home One. Leia limped a little as she walked, pain stalking up her side. She peeled back her shirt and grimaced.

"You need to go to a medic," Hera said suddenly from behind her. Leia turned to glare at her. Her voice had been gentle, but her words were not helpful.

"I'll do that," she said. " _Eventually_."

Hera did not seem to find her stubbornness amusing. Her eyes flickered down at Leia's face, and when she spoke it was in a voice that was soft and soothing.

"There is not crime in taking care of yourself, Leia," she said.

Leia inhaled sharply, but decided not to respond. She had to keep herself calm. It wasn't like Hera was wrong— in fact, Leia should have gone to a medic immediately. But she didn't.

They each filed into an empty conference room at the far end of the ship. Leia sat down beside Han, and she looked down at her hands while everyone got settled. They were still grimy, bloody, and callused. Days and days of climbing various trees, swinging from vines, collecting wood, and digging fungi out of the earth had taken its toll on her.

"Mon Mothma's not here," she murmured to Han.

"Getting a hold of her ain't gonna be easy," Han said, scratching his head. "Might as well get this over with now, and tell her later."

She had to agree. It was the easiest thing.

Rex leaned forward expectantly. His hands were folded, and his eyes were wide. "Well, Lieutenant Commander?" He cocked his head. "What do you want us to do?"

Leia could feel her heart in her throat. Her shoulders were straight and her expression was schooled, and yet she felt utterly transparent. Speaking felt like a betrayal. Existing felt like a lie. She was so confused, and she was so  _angry_.

"Captain Rex," Leia said quietly, "you fought with my father during the Clone Wars. Would you say… you knew him very well?"

Rex's expression softened fondly, as it tended to whenever she brought up Anakin Skywalker, and he smiled at her. "General Skywalker was the bravest man I ever knew," he said. "Yes, I'd say I knew him well. He was my General until the very end of the Clone Wars."

"Were you…" Leia licked her lips, and she glanced down at her hands again. In the gap between her words, the silence flooded her with anxiety. She scraped at the grime that caked the lines of her hands. "You've said before that you don't know what happened to him. You weren't with him when Order 66 went live?"

Rex's smiled fell, and he looked grim. He shook his head solemnly. The others simply watched him— Aphra, and Chewie, and Lando, and Han, and Hera. It was an odd mix of people, to be sure.

"Then… you don't know what happened to him," Leia clarified.

"No." Rex closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and he shook his head slowly. "No, I do not. I was with Ahsoka when it happened. I'd taken my chip out, so I didn't… I didn't attack her. But all the rest. My men. My brothers. We had to fight them— kill them— just to get off Mandalore."

Leia's nails slid over her palm. Her chewed on the inside of her cheek, and then her bottom lip. Beside her, Han was watching. He laid a hand over her wrist, and she stopped.

She took a deep breath. It shuddered inside her throat.

"Rex…" Leia met the old clone's eye, and she watched his face bloom slowly with worry. "Anakin Skywalker survived Order 66."

Everyone in the room held their breath in that moment as they stared at her. Aphra seemed confused, her brow furrowed and her feet up on the table. Hera seemed worried, her eyes flitting between Leia and Rex uncertainly. Rex merely looked stunned.

His eyes were wide, and his mouth fell open. Then, inexplicably, hope sprung into his expression.

"The General… is he really…?" Rex was smiling. He shook his head in disbelief, and he smacked his palm with his fist. "I  _knew_  it. I knew he wouldn't go down that easy. Well, where has he been? Where'd he end up—"

"Rex." Leia watched him dully until he closed his mouth. She felt guilty for this. It clawed at her throat and felt like there was a scream stuck inside it. Everything in her was burning, and she wanted to burst into tears, or burst into flames, or just simply burst. Every time she closed her eyes, she replayed her fight with Vader. It made her feel sick and weak. "I brought you in here because I want you to help me kill my father."

It was unbearable, their horrified stares. Leia blinked for a few moments as her words rung heavy and true. She stood up suddenly, dragging her fingers over her lips and taking a deep breath.

"Wait," Aphra said, "what?"

Leia glanced back at them. She dropped her hands to her side.

"My father," she said. "Anakin Skywalker. Darth Vader."

Even as she spoke, it felt like a crime or a betrayal. Like she was telling a terrible lie, and everything that she had ever known was crumbling around her as a result. But this was the truth, and her whole life was the lie. The lie that Ben had told.

She was so angry, but somehow she couldn't find it in herself to blame him. And that was frustrating.

All around her, faces grew stark in horror and confusion. Leia looked into Rex's eyes, and she saw his disbelief. His disgust, his bemusement, his abject despair.

"What are you saying?" Rex gasped, his voice cracking dismally. "What— what? You want me to kill the General, your father, who is…?"

"Darth Vader," Leia said in a grim, monotone voice, "yes."

"Darth Vader is your  _dad_?" Aphra blurted, dropping her legs and lurching forward in alarm. Her eyes bulged out, and then the revelation bloomed across her face. She smacked her forehead. " _Oh._  Wow. That makes so much sense."

"No!" Rex snapped at her, leaping to his feet and smacking the table with his fist. Aphra jumped. "It doesn't. It makes no sense at all. General Skywalker was like a brother himself! He loved us clones— he loved  _Ahsoka_. He'd never— he  _wouldn't._ "

Leia was not amused by this denial. She folded her arms across her chest and waited for him to calm down. But Rex was distraught. His expression was transforming from confusion to pure desolation as the horror of it all came crashing down on him.

"He wouldn't…" Rex uttered faintly, his wizened, freckled, scarred hands sliding over his bald head. "The Republic… the Jedi… he'd never do that. He… he was a staunch believer in— in peace, in… democ…racy…" In Rex's eyes, Leia could see the realization dawning on him. Anakin Skywalker, the War Hero, was not so perfect as history and bias might suggest. "No. No, no, no…"

Finally, Rex collapsed back into his seat. His head was bowed low, his forehead against the table, and his fingers laced behind his neck in defeat.

"It's true," Leia said. Her voice was barely above a whisper. She pressed her lips together thinly, and she shook her head. "I didn't want to believe it either, but… it's true. Luke wouldn't lie to me."

"Luke told you this?" Hera asked, speaking up for the first time. She had been sitting pensively, her arms crossed and her chin between her fingers.

"Um… yeah." Leia chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"We were there," Han clarified. Hera glanced at him, and he offered a small shrug. "Look, the whole story is pretty hard to believe, but I've learned not to doubt Luke on stuff way smaller than this."

"Luke is…" Rex began, his head shooting up. His mouth lingered open for a moment, his eyes darting to Leia in horror, and in shame. Then he drew his hand over his face, and he shook his head.

Leia observed him for a moment before quietly returning to her seat. She bowed her head, and she folded her hands in her lap.

"Luke is my brother," Leia said quietly. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry,  _what_?" Aphra flung her arms into the air, her expression twisting incredulously. " _What_? Seriously? What the hell is going on? There's no way that's true!"

"It is," Lando said firmly. "Han, Chewie, and I were there when Luke told Vader."

"Luke knew?" Rex looked unsure, his brow furrowed. He sighed deeply, and he shook his head. "I thought about telling him… but I could never know for sure. I only really suspected because he has the Force and looks so much like the General."

" _Look_ ," Leia hissed, her shoulders hunching and her eyes squeezing shut. "I know this is a lot to take in, but keep in mind I found out about this about  _twelve hours_  ago. If I had my way back on Bespin, I wouldn't even be here right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Han asked her sharply.

"It means that Luke should have gotten away," Leia replied in an equally sharp tone, meeting Han's gaze with fire in her eyes. "Not me. Okay? He's smarter, and quicker, and— and  _kinder_ — and he could be a Jedi if he wanted. And Vader would… I don't know! Treat me better, maybe. He  _hates_  Luke, Han, I could tell. He cut off Luke's hand, and—"

"He did what now?" Han hissed.

Leia sat quietly, taking a deep breath and trying to calm herself. Oh, this was harder than she thought it would be.

"Luke is safe," she corrected herself, glancing around at the worried faces that surrounded her. "Vader won't kill his own son. I know that much. But he  _will_  maim him, and think nothing of it. He wants me and Luke to join him, and to… I don't know, become Sith Lords with him. We need to get to Luke before that happens."

"I agree," Hera said. She watched Leia with a very somber, very gentle gaze, and she lowered her chin. "Me, my team, and my ship are with you in any endeavor to rescue Luke. The last thing we need is another Sith in this world, and I don't think I could live with myself if I had to see someone so gentle and kindhearted as Prince Organa turned into a weapon."

Leia didn't know why she was so surprised. Hera had, after all, spent a good deal of her life around Jedi. She had met Sith before, and had more than a few run ins with the dreaded Inquisitors. She was probably more knowledgeable on the subject than Leia.

"Thank you," Leia said.

"However," Hera said, leaning forward and staring straight into Leia's eyes, "you need to keep a hold on yourself, Leia. That stint back in the hangar was an accident, but the Dark Side is dangerous. I've seen what it does to impressionable minds, and I'm begging you.  _Don't_  give into it."

To say she was stunned was an understatement. She had gotten this lecture countless times, usually by Ben, sometimes by Yoda, but she had  _never_  expected General Syndulla of all people to warn her that she could fall to the Dark Side.

This was why Hera was here.

"I'll…" Leia swallowed hard, and she closed her eyes. She dug up her irritation by the roots and shoveled it into the back of her head. "I'll keep that in mind, General. Thank you."

Hera nodded. She looked tired, her pretty green face wilted and gaunt. She looked down at her hands and slumped.

"I'm sorry I can't do more for you," she said softly. "Kanan… he'd know what to say right about now. He'd be able to give you some insight into some ancient Jedi wisdom, and remind you that you are on the right path— that you just have to keep following it. But Kanan's gone." Hera raised her eyes to Leia, and she offered a small, solemn smile. "I can't help you further than warn you, Leia. The way that you use the Force defines who you are as a Jedi. So don't waste your gift, and don't give into whatever is fueling your hatred towards your father, because that is exactly what Vader wants."

Leia could only listen. She could only reflect quietly on what Hera said, and then nod silently. Because everything Hera said made sense. It was also nothing she hadn't heard before.

But it was things that she needed to hear.

Hatred was  _exactly_  what Vader wanted from her. His disregard for Luke's safety was in part to rile her up. And it had worked. She was furious that she had let it all happen, that Luke was now in Vader's clutches, that he was missing a hand, missing his friends, missing  _her._

It hurt to be alone.

"Uh…" Aphra rocked forward momentarily, side-eyeing Hera guiltily. "I have something that might, uh… help you, Leia." She lifted a rucksack onto the table, and reached into it. She paused and tilted her head at Hera, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry about this."

She retrieved a small box made of some sort of crystal. Hera jerked at the sight of it, and her eyes met Aphra's heatedly. Aphra merely set the cube onto the table and shrugged her shoulders.

"What is that?" Leia asked, leaning forward curiously. The moment her eyes had flickered over the small crystalline cube, lights began to dance behind them. She could hear a humming sound, faint and melodious, and it drew her closer and closer until she found herself nudging the cube with the Force.

"Stolen," Hera said fiercely, "that's what it is. Aphra took it from the  _Ghost_."

"I figured Luke needed it more, okay?" Aphra huffed, flinging her hands into the air defensively. "Like, yikes? I just figured I'd pass the information along."

"I'm  _sure_  that's what you intended to do," Hera said, her voice poisonous.

"Uh,  _guys_." Han cut in sharply, but not enough to break her concentration. She watched the cube float serenely above their heads. Each carefully molded metal casing turned slowly, edging toward an uneven center. A hologram appeared suddenly, startling everyone at the table as it sparked into life.

" _This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi_ —" said the hologram, a portrait of a man who Leia would not recognize if not for the cadence of his voice and the gleam of his eyes. The man in the holo was bathed in youth, his face smooth and bearded, and his eyes focused and calm. Then the holo sputtered, and looped backwards. " _This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi—_ "

"Ben…" Leia whispered. She folded her hands over her mouth and stared at the holo as it looped again, the young Ben Kenobi uttering his name over and over and over. His voice soothed her nerves and settled her stomach. His voice drained the anger out of her body and laid her down to rest.

"It's broken," Hera told her reluctantly. "I'm… I'm sorry. Ezra had a nasty run in with a Sith, and it… it's broken now."

"Was it Maul?" Leia didn't even look up from Ben's face. Instead she simply stared ahead of her as Hera blinked rapidly.

"Yes," she said. "How did you…?"

"Ezra and I met," Leia said, meeting Hera's eye and shrugging. "When Maul died, I was there. Maul really wanted Ezra to join him, right?"

Hera nodded slowly. Her eyes were glazed over, and she seemed to be filled with unparalleled sadness. Leia tore her eyes from Ben's face, if only to watch Hera Syndulla with pity. One of the reasons why she hated being around the  _Ghost_  crew was because she knew she was an unhappy reminder of what they had lost. Every time they spoke to her, they felt like they had to apologize for the deaths of their Jedi friends, as though they were responsible for the lost resource. It made her miserable and afraid.

" _This is Obi-Wan Kenobi—_ " said the faulty cube. " _This is Obi-Wan Kenobi—_ "

 _But where are you, Ben_? Leia thought.  _Now that I need you, where are you?_

Leia sighed deeply, and she closed her eyes. Nothing was going to bring Ben back from the dead. His ghost, wherever it was, could not protect her from the truth. She had to be strong now. Stronger than her father had been.

She had to be the best Jedi she could be. No matter the cost.

With a small nudge, she began to turn the corners of the cube back to where they'd been initially. Ben's image, his youthful face and gentle gaze and assuring voice, was cut off abruptly. It blinked out like a light, and Leia watched it forlornly before bowing her head and closing her eyes.

" _One, two, three, four, five—_ "

Leia's eyes snapped open. An unfamiliar voice leaked into her ears, drenched in a distinctly gruff Outer Rim accent. She leaned back in alarm as she saw that the corners of the cube had detached from it, and were now rotating slowly around it like planets around a star. There was a new hologram where Obi-Wan Kenobi had been, this one astonishingly young and deliberately cheeky. There was no sorrow in the man's eyes as he lifted a lightsaber and moved fluidly to his counting.

The holo jumped, flickering from his fighting to him standing straight and speaking with a cocksure smirk.

"—  _and so on. I've made some… adjustments to the classic Form IV techniques that I think you'll find work well against droids and other ranged attackers. Here, I'll show you._ " Leia's eyes flickered to the lightsaber in the man's hands as it lit up suddenly. She felt as though a rock had plummeted into her stomach at the sight of it. " _One, two, three, four, five—_ "

"That's—" Leia uttered faintly, her fingers falling to her side and gripping her father's lightsaber tightly. Her heart clenched, and her throat tightened, and she felt as though someone had jammed their fist through her stomach and out her back.

The man had a strong jaw, a straight nose, and a dimpled chin. His hair was an indistinct color, and it waved naturally against his forehead and ears. She resisted the urge to touch her own unruly hair. To drag her fingers over her straight nose. To trace the shape of her jaw.

"Anakin Skywalker," Rex said gravely. Leia met his gaze, and saw the devastation that consumed his old, wizened face. His eyes were drooping, and his head was bowed. He looked at her, and it felt like she was not even there. Like she had become intangible, and he was seeing a ghost.

" _One, two, three, four, five—_ "

Leia swallowed hard. Beneath the table, she felt a warm hand grasp her own. Her eyes flitted down to her lap, and she realized the Han had taken her hand and squeezed it tightly.

" _One, two, three, four, five—_ "

"That's…" Aphra began, leaning forward in awe. " _That's_  Darth Vader?"

"When he was General Skywalker," Rex said, the gravity of his voice weighing them all down. "Yes."

"But—!" Aphra grasped her head, wisps of her dark hair clenching in her fingers. " _What_? He's so— so—!"

"Different," Leia said hoarsely.

"Uh, yeah." Aphra shook her head furiously. "How did this kid end up being the most ruthless son of a bitch in the galaxy?"

Rex shook his head. He did not know.

None of them knew.

Leia watched her father's lightsaber flicker as he practiced his movements with precision, yet also a hint of slack. As though he was not taking his duty so seriously. As though he had other things on his mind.

With a wave of her hand, the cube corners returned to their home, and clicked shut with a shudder. The faulty image of her father blinked out as suddenly as it appeared, yet his voice remained inside her head. Echoing into her eardrums, repeating his refrain.

_One, two, three, four, five—_

She took a deep breath.

_This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi—_

Tears flooded her eyes.

_One, two, three, four, five—_

Leia stood up abruptly. Her chair screeched as she flung it back.

_This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi—_

She whirled around, but she felt a tug on her hand.

_One, two, three, four, five—_

She twisted to face Han, her eyes glittering and red rimmed.

_This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi—_

"Leia…" Han whispered, gripping her hand.

_One, two, three, four, five—_

She tore her hand from his, and fled.

* * *

Time, it seemed, inched by as though it could not bother itself with haste. There were no days and no nights in his cell— and he did not delude himself into believing it was anything but a cell. He had read every book on his bedside table twice, and he now did nothing but memorize the pages dedicated to his mother and sleep.

It felt like he might lose his mind, really. He did nothing for hours and hours, and yet he was exhausted. He was on edge. He could not tell time, so he began carving strikes into the wall each time he awoke from a long sleep. Right now there were seven strikes. He had begun doing this three long sleeps into his incarceration.

"Padmé Amidala's progressive stance on military reform, bank regulation, and decreased poverty rates boosted her popularity with her already adoring people," Luke murmured to himself, his book lying flat on his chest as he stared at the ceiling. "Not only did she prove herself a capable warrior, but she understood the law and legislation well enough to combat opposing plans and make positive changes in the infrastructure of Naboo's society. Her philanthropy continued long after her reign, and she remains active in charity for the impoverished on Naboo to this day."

He found it ungodly sad that he was holding a book that had been written about his mother from before she had died.

As usual, he had no idea what time it was. He had been feeling sleepy for a few hours now, so he sensed it was rather late. Sleep would not come, however, so he memorized instead.

"Amidala remains a staunch believer of democracy, and fights despotism far and wide across the gal—"

His door slid open, and the noise caused him to jerk upright in alarm. Before his mind could register the intruders, he found himself blurting, "Lord Vader—"

His body was yanked from his bed, and his head hit the ground with a shocking amount of force. He scrambled to push himself upright, but his metal hand was pinned beneath a boot, and his fingers grappled at nothing as a knee pressed painfully onto his back. He cried out, still glimpsing stars from the smack of his head against metal, and he hastily pressed his hand to his mouth as a strip of fabric came falling over his mouth. He pushed back against the fabric and twisted his head.

"Help!" He screamed, squirming beneath the overwhelming pressure of someone pinning him to the floor. " _Help me_!"

His hand was torn away, and the cloth was yanking against his open mouth, muffling his cries. It bit into the corners of his lips painfully, and he breathed in deeply through his nose as he was yanked roughly to his feet.

His assailants, he saw, were three stormtroopers and three officers. He glanced around him wildly as he was dragged forward, identifying each rank and deciding the leader by the number of blocks on his breast. The highest ranking officer was the man who had gagged him, a lieutenant who walked with too much confidence.

The halls were deserted and dark. Luke knew that he'd been pulled out during the ship's night cycle, and so even the stark whites of the walls seemed dim and gray. He did not use his legs, and was rather dragged down the hall, and down another, and another, and through a door, until he had no idea where he was, and realized that escaping back to his cell, where he might be safe, was not an option.

Fear, he knew, was dangerous. He had looked death in the eye many times and felt nothing. But right now, he feared not death, but  _pain_. The pain he had felt—  _still_  felt— from losing his hand. The pain he'd gone through at the hand of the Seventh Sister. The pain that somehow still pervaded his entire being, the phantom loss of Alderaan that was engrained in his soul. He was terrified now that he would gain another phantom limb, and have to bear that burden too.

He was thrown into a portless cell, empty but for a few crates, and he scrambled backwards. The first blow came unexpectedly, a heel to his stomach that caused him to gag. He curled up on the floor, his eyes watering and his mind reeling. If he used the Force, he knew he could at least distract them for long enough to escape. But he had no weapons. Even if he could push them all back with the Force, which seemed unlikely, they would never be incapacitated.

What was happening? Was Vader trying to goad him into using the Dark Side?

The next blow was harder. A boot came landing on the side of his head, and he could not even scream. The pain was so abrupt and excruciating that for a moment he saw nothing but a great well of white, and then black. He swam in a vacuous space of a steady throbbing sensation that consumed his entire being.

And then another blow came. His sight returned to him, only to watch the sole of a boot come crashing down on his face.

Through the exploding pain that lashed along the front of his skull, and the flood of blood that pooled into his mouth, he found himself kicking wildly. The pain only grew worse, and he twisted and writhed as they propped him up and struck him with a baton. He coughed, his eyes widening as flames of agony licked up his side. Another blow to the same spot had him screaming through the gag, his eyes squeezing shut as tears dampened his face.

As this went on, he tried not to focus too much on the pain. His head was throbbing, and his side was on fire, and his nose would not stop leaking blood, but he was sure that they weren't trying to kill him.

Right?

In his mind, he took the image he had of his mother, his birth mother, and his father— Bail Organa— and held them close, and held them tight. He held them behind his eyes as he screamed, and imagined what it might be like to lean his head against his mother's shoulder, to breathe in the scent of her hair— a blend of Remaldia seed, Feri fruit, and Polsa blossoms. To lean close to his father so he could brush his knuckles against the side of his head, and hum a soft tune. To look his birth mother in the eyes, to take her hands and tell her how much she meant to him, how much she inspired him, how much her legacy drove him forward each and every day.

The blows stopped suddenly, and Luke breathed. He found himself dangling with each arm in the grasp of a trooper. His breathing, he knew, was unsteady. Yet he could only really feel it. His head felt heavy, and words seemed muffled. He turned his chin, and listened hard.

"— we thought we might teach this rebel scum a lesson, Lord Vader—"

The distinct sound of a lightsaber igniting caused Luke's head to jerk up. He was dropped to the ground, and he groaned, pain lancing up his whole body. He curled up onto his knees, doubled over in pain, and he gripped his side and prayed to the Force to let the pain stop. The whole left side of his face felt like it was being repeatedly struck with a brick. His nose was still spitting blood.

He heard a body hit the floor, and he lifted his head again, his eyes wide with terror.

The looming form of Darth Vader came sweeping toward him. The whole room was bathed in an eerie blood-red glow.

As he went, heads came lobbing off each officer and each trooper. Luke listened with one good ear, and he realized they were screaming.

"No, please—!" yelled a trooper, before his scream was cut abruptly by the whirring of a blade and the meaty  _thwack_  of a body hitting the floor.

Luke blinked rapidly as silence fell. Vader had slipped behind him at one point or another, and now Luke could only kneel on the floor, half crumpled in sheer agony, and wait in terror.

Vader's steps were heavy, and yet he did not quite hear them. He jumped when Vader appeared from his left side, standing straight and looming large like a shadow beast before him. Luke gazed up at him dimly.

Before his eyes, Vader's large hand came reaching toward his face. Instinctively, Luke flinched, and Vader's fingers faltered for a moment. Then, very quickly, he pinched the cloth that gagged him, and pulled it down. Luke exhaled shakily, and he licked his lips. Blood congealed on his tongue.

Then Vader placed his hands on Luke's shoulders, and Luke jerked back. He found himself yelling involuntarily, and falling helplessly onto his side.

Vader stood before him for a moment. Luke laid on the floor, his head pounding and his heart racing, and he slowly dragged himself upright. He bent himself in shame.

For a moment, Vader only stared. And then he spoke.

"This will not happen again," he said, almost like a promise.

Luke stared at his legs. He dragged them up to his chest, and he closed his eyes.

He felt something heavy land on his shoulders, and his eyes snapped open. He looked up, and saw only Vader's back as the door slid open and he stepped out. His shoulders were bare.

Luke reached with his single hand, and he gripped the slippery fabric of Vader's cape. He pulled it closer around himself instinctively, and he draped it over his legs before burying his face in it.

He sat alone, surrounded by corpses, and he wondered what Vader was thinking. He had not really specified why this attack had happened, though Luke felt that he was intuitive enough that he could guess. It was likely that someone had heard that he, Prince Luke Organa of the Rebel Alliance, was on board. Sometimes guards wanted to teach prisoners a lesson. That was the way with war. Luke had seen it before, only then it had been his men who had done the beating.

Luke had punished those men then, but now he realized he had not punished them enough.

That was his folly. His time as a prisoner had largely been short every time it had happened. He hadn't known any better, and his naivety had hurt people.

One thing that Luke had always understood, as painful as it was, was that those who followed the Empire were people too. They weren't soulless, brainwashed husks, as much as many people painted them to be. He understood the horror of it all.

He even understood why someone would torture him. The Rebels had hurt many, many Imperials. The corpses that surrounded him now had just wanted retribution.

Luke could understand that feeling.

Eventually someone came to fetch him. He was loaded onto a hover-stretcher, and carried to the med-bay.

* * *

Leia sat on the floor of the  _Falcon_ , her lightsaber at her feet and her mouth buried in her knees. Hera had let her keep the holocron, and offered her Kanan Jarrus's cabin for meditation if she ever needed it. Leia understood how much that truly meant, but the thought of doing  _anything_  right now made her want to just die. She was so tired, and yet she could not sleep.

Certainly she had tried. She had rolled around in a hospital cot for hours until she just could not take it anymore. Then she had stolen away into the  _Falcon_ , feeling safer here than anywhere else.

She had been in the med-bay for a few days. Most of her injuries were superficial, but to reduce the risk of infection she needed to wait for her wounds to completely heal before she was released officially. Luckily they hadn't locked the doors on her.

All her thoughts were with Luke. She tried to imagine where he was, or what was happening to him, and all it brought her was terror. She didn't think Vader would hurt him— at least she hoped he wouldn't— but she knew how dangerous it was to allow Luke to remain Vader's prisoner.

What could she do? How could she fix this?

Ben was still not answering her. She suspected he either couldn't, or wouldn't, and either way she was frustrated. Darth Vader was her  _father_ , and no one could help her with that. No one could help her make sense of it. She felt trapped inside her own body, and if she could peel herself away strip by strip, she would. If it could free her from this truth, she would.

"Hey."

Leia raised her head to blink up at Han confusedly. He was standing in the doorway, his hair disheveled and his nightshirt crumpled. A bit of his chest was unveiled to her, and her eyes flickered from the small patch of skin to his tired face.

She sat quietly as he leaned against the doorframe. He watched her, and she lowered her eyes uncertainly. Sometimes she hated the way he looked at her.

Other times, it was completely welcome.

"Hello," she said. Her voice was hoarse.

His dark eyes were glued to her face, as though perhaps he knew her thoughts, and he wanted to soothe the sensation within her that begged to pry her skin from her bones.

"He wouldn't want you to mope, you know," Han said.

Leia couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Oh," she breathed, "don't lecture me about what Luke would or wouldn't want. He's gone now."

Han pushed off the doorframe and settled down on the floor across from her. He lowered his chin and watched her gravely.

"Not forever," he reminded her. "Not for  _long_. We just gotta remember that. We gotta try. For him."

Leia nodded mutely. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, and sighed deeply. "I just…" She rolled her shoulders back, and she shook her head. "I don't know. I'm afraid, Han. I don't trust Vader not to corrupt him, and I'm so scared because… because Luke is so much better than I am!"

Han stared at her blankly, and he lowered his chin. "Shut up," he said flatly.

"Excuse me?"

Han leaned forward, looked straight into her eye, and he said, "Shut  _up_. Luke is no better than you, and you are no better than him! You're both unbelievably dedicated, smart, kind people! I'm sick of you two comparing each other to the other. You came from the same person, didn't you? Just shut up and accept that you're equals!"

Leia stared at him, her mouth dropping open. And then she bowed her head, and she nodded.

"Leia."

She looked up at him. He had leaned back again, keeping a careful distance. She noted this with interest. Usually Han got unbearably close to her, making any excuse to make her uncomfortable. She appreciated that he was respecting her boundaries.

"We are going to find him," Han said gently. "We're going to save him, and then we're going to kick that no good son of a bantha's ass for taking him. I swear it."

Leia smiled at him weakly. His words were so certain, yet she knew it would be far harder than it appeared.

Still, she felt determined.

"Where do we start?" she whispered.

Han grinned. " _Right_ ," he breathed, rubbing his hands together. "So Lando and I have been talking—"

"Oh?" Leia's eyebrows arched. "Have you two worked things out? Are you back together?"

"What?" Han seemed taken aback, his face paling and then flushing in a rather dramatic escalation of expressions. "No? Uh. What? Did he tell you that?"

"No," Leia said amusedly, "I guessed."

"Well, it's not like that!" Han hunched over, and he frowned. "Any… more…?"

"That sounded like a question."

"Look," Han said, laying his hands flat on his knees. "Lando and I have a lot in common. We've always been close."

Leia smirked, and she rested her cheek in her palm. "Mmhm?"

" _But_ ," Han said, "we had a falling out a long time ago, and now we're just friends."

"Okay."

"Soo…?" Han scratched his head. His cheeks were still faintly pink. "Anyway… Lando and I were talking, and he thinks he can use some connections to start scouting out where Vader is going to be next. We need to get intel, and we need it fast. We both agreed our best option is to get a spy."

"Han," Leia sighed, dragging her hand through her hair and shaking her head. "There's no way. We'll never find a person qualified enough to infiltrate the Imperial ranks and get onto  _Vader_ 's ship."

"Lando can."

"Lando's not magic."

"No," Han said, "but Lando's a conniving piece of shit with a lot of connections."

"The way Sabine and Hera made it sound," Leia said dryly, "I'd think Lando wouldn't have much in terms of trustworthy allies."

"Yeah, well, they met him at a rough time in his life." Han shrugged. "I was pretty bad then too. If you can remember."

"Oh," Leia said, "I do."

"Anyway," Han said, "my point is that we need intel. Once we get that, then we need a solid plan."

"We'll use me as bait," Leia said firmly.

Han's expression was fairly priceless in that moment, his dark eyes shot wide and his head cocked to the side while he gaped at nothing.

"That," he said, "is a  _terrible_ idea. What is wrong with you?"

"If we can be certain that Luke is with Vader, and then goad Vader into a situation, then we should do it!" Leia threw her hands up in defense. "That is all I'm saying! I know I'm something Vader wants, and Luke is worth the risk."

Han shook his head furiously. "No way," he said, rising to his feet. "We'll figure out another way, okay?"

"Han—!" Leia gasped, her frustration causing her to fling her arms into the air irritably.

"I said  _no_ , okay?" Han looked down at her sharply, and for once she really saw the fear in his eyes. "I can't lose you too, Leia."

Her mouth fell open, and instead of saying "you won't," she said nothing. She stared at him, and she said nothing as he stared at her with wide, beseeching eyes.

And then he turned away, and he left her there.

Leia tipped her head back and groaned, dragging her hands over her face.

All of this was Vader's fault. Everything wrong that had ever happened in her whole life was Vader's fault. She could have had a mother! She could have had Luke her whole life! She could have Ben, alive and well to teach her again.

But now she had nothing. Nothing, except some bare hope and a little bit of desperation to get her through the night.

Anakin Skywalker used to fill her dreams. She had always imagined him as tall and smart and strong. She'd liked to fantasize about him coming home one day to whisk her away from the farm, when she got into fights with her uncle or was forced to clean her room by her aunt. In these fantasies, Anakin would swoop into the homestead and scoop her up into his arms, squeezing her tight and placing her on his shoulders.

That was a dream for a little girl.

Now she knew better.

She took Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber in her hand. It felt heavy as it laid against her palm.

As her palm fell away, it levitated in midair. She drifted her hands over it, and felt through its mechanical innards with the Force, gently unlocking various mechanisms and watching as the lightsaber dismantled itself before her eyes, separating into small pieces and twirling as they rotated around one another, circling a glowing blue crystal at the center. The crystal was humming, and the tune Leia heard was at once foreboding and sad, like the sound of a funeral march.

Leia reached into the rotation of metal and circuitry, and her fist closed around the crystal.

* * *

Luke's eyes fluttered open. His body sunk heavily into a sea of eiderdown, and he stared into whiteness bemusedly. His throat was dry, and his limbs were heavy. He had not dreamed, which felt strange and a little frightening.

It was as though his veins had been stuffed with cotton, and he could hardly move. His limbs were stiff and stagnant. Everything was tinged with a glaze around the corners, and his eyes stuck together more than once as he attempted to look around him.

The med-bay he was in was either very small, or he was sequestered off into a secluded area. There was a large partition behind him that confirmed this theory, and as he sat up, the extent of his injuries hit him. He found himself falling back onto his elbows with a strangled cry. Even the drugs that numbed his brain and nerves could not quite mask the unbearable throbbing that panged his side and his face.

He thumbed the left side of his head, and found that he had bandages wrapped firmly around his forehead, with heavy padding around his ear. He touched it gingerly.

Then his eyes slid to his lap. A gasp fell from his mouth involuntarily, and he laid his hands over the cloak tentatively. Its soft velvet fabric melted against his flesh hand, and he marveled at it for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of familiar vines and birds before he realized he had a metal hand, and it all came flooding back to him..

His mechanical hand twitched as he lifted it toward his face miserably. It turned, and its fingers danced in a small wave on command. He did not even remember the surgery, which he supposed he should be thankful for. He'd seen prosthetic surgeries done before, and he knew they were painful.

A doctor appeared through a door, her eyes glued to a datapad. She looked vaguely familiar as she wandered to his side and checked his monitor.

"He—" Luke's voice was hoarse, and he had to clear his throat. "Hello?"

It was then he realized that something was wrong.

He could not hear out of his left ear.

His fingers flew to the bandage carefully, and he blinked rapidly as he tried to rationalize the loss. Was it muffled because it was bandaged?

But his voice hadn't been muffled. It was simply… not there on the left.

The doctor's eyes flickered to him, and he stared at her desperately.

"Lord Vader will be here to see you again soon," she told him. He blinked at her. "He'll want to see that you can still move your hand correctly, so count to five for me please."

"Uh…" Luke looked down at the metal hand, and he slowly counted on his fingers, watching each one pop up. "One… two… three… four… five…"

_One, two, three, four, five—_

He turned his head curiously to his left. Had he just heard that? It had not been his voice. It was too deep.

"Very good," said the doctor. She marked her datapad, and then she set it aside. "I will release you within the day. Unfortunately, there may be some scarring due to Lord Vader's orders. I apologize for that."

"Vader's order…?" Luke's fingers clenched around the cloak in his lap. He wanted to bury his face in it, to test if maybe he could smell Alderaan in the folds of the fabric. "I don't… I don't understand. Could you start from the beginning?"

"Ah." The doctor nodded. "You don't remember the last time you woke up, then? I see." She marked that down on her datapad. "You were under heavy sedation, so I imagine it is hazy. You awoke yesterday morning. Lord Vader came to take his cape from you, though he gave you that—" She pointed at the cloak in Luke's lap with her stylus. "— as a replacement. I then explained your predicament. Do you remember that?"

"No."

The doctor sighed. "Right," she said. She looked down at him gravely. "You have a concussion, a fractured skull, two broken ribs, a broken nose, a fractured wrist, and a ruptured eardrum."

"Oh," Luke said faintly.

"Your nose has been set," said the doctor, "and your wrist looks to be healing up nicely."

Luke looked down and noted the splint on his flesh hand.

"Your ribs will heal fine within the next few weeks, so long as you take things lightly." The doctor eyed him sharply. "I warned Lord Vader that extraneous physical activity will be detrimental to your health."

"Right…" Luke rubbed his head, just above his ear, and he looked up at the doctor with wide eyes. "Can… can you tell me… what's happened to my left ear?"

"I can't say for certain yet," the doctor said. She watched him pityingly, and she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I understand that you are having trouble hearing. From what I can tell, it is a result of your head trauma and ruptured eardrum. I would need to study you longer to give you a definite answer, but I have told Lord Vader that I recommend a hearing aid."

"Oh." Luke swallowed hard. He tried not to think too hard about it as he nodded. "Okay."

"He has denied this request."

Luke stared at her vacantly. He felt unbelievably  _empty_  at this knowledge that Vader was restricting him from a device that would enable him to function better. He supposed he should be grateful he got a new hand.

As if summoned by the sound of his name, the door slid open, and Vader came striding in. He stopped short of Luke's bed as Luke fixed him with an empty gaze.

"You won't allow me a hearing aid?" Luke demanded. He could feel the doctor's disbelieving gaze, as though she thought he might drop dead from simply speaking to Vader this way.

Rather than gracing Luke with a reply, Vader turned his attention to the doctor.

"Is he stable enough to move, Dr. Terrion?"

Terrion blinked rapidly, and she nodded fiercely. "Yes, sir," she said. Any hint of casual demeanor slid away, and she quickly handed her datapad to him. "Though… if I may say… I do believe he requires more rest and medical attention…"

"That is none of your concern," Vader said, taking the datapad and bowing his head to glance at it. "You may leave us."

Terrion stood for a moment, her mouth half-open and her brow furrowing. Her gaze slid to Luke, and for a moment he pitied her. She seemed to genuinely care about his well-being, and he understood that it was her integrity as a doctor that made her fear for him. Yet she could do nothing.

Better to let him suffer a bit than to die.

He smiled at her slightly in an attempt to assure her that he was fine.

She looked down at her hands, which were clenched together and white at the knuckles.

Without another word, she left.

Luke took a deep breath, and he felt a deep aching in his chest that could either be medical or emotional. He could not tell, with the drugs clouding his senses.

"I don't understand," Luke whispered. Vader did not look up at him. "I… I don't get it. You save me… you give me back my cloak… but then you don't even allow me to have a hearing aid? That's cruel!"

"I know." Vader set the datapad aside, and stood as far as possible from Luke's bed. He loomed like a shadow in the doorway. "That is the point."

Luke gazed at him in disbelief. He shook his head slowly.

"We will be landing in Imperial Center shortly," Vader said.

All of the fear that had escaped him earlier suddenly came flooding into him, and he felt for a moment like someone had torn his ribcage open and torn out his heart. He could not breathe.

"What?" he uttered faintly.

"You are to be presented before the Emperor." Vader moved, though not forward. He chose instead to skirt around the room, remaining a fair distance from Luke. "I will not pretend that this is not dangerous. You may be taken away from me. So I took the necessary measures to paint you as a broken, obedient prisoner."

"Is  _that_  what that beating was?" Luke asked in disbelief. "You wanted to make it  _seem_  like you're mistreating me, so you're— actually mistreating me?"

"No!" Vader spat, his head jerking in Luke's direction. "I had no part in that barbaric scene. I sensed your distress while I was in my hyperbaric chamber, which is why…" He shook his head. "I… apologize, Luke. That should not have happened to you."

Luke stared at him with a furrowed brow. Vader was apologizing? To him? He squirmed a bit in his bed, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his cloak.

"I do not wish you harm," Vader said, his voice very slow, and surprisingly soft. "Therefore you  _must_  cooperate with me. I understand your hatred of me runs deep, and I respect that. I have hated you just as long. Yet you are my son. And I will do whatever I must to protect you. I cannot do that if the Emperor decides to execute you."

"You could have  _let me go_!" Luke gaped at Vader, and he shook his head. "You don't wish to harm me? You'll do whatever you must to protect me? Yet you bring me to the one place in the  _entire_  galaxy where the likelihood of my head getting literally nailed to a pike is highest? No! No way! It doesn't work like that! You don't get to pretend to care about me, and then throw me to the wolves!"

"Luke," Vader hissed. "I did not choose this. The Emperor heard of your capture and requested you be brought to him immediately."

"You didn't have to capture me!" Luke squeezed his eyes shut, and he shook his head. "All I want is to go home! To see my sister, to be with my friends, but you decided that because you and I share blood, that must negate all the years of animosity between us! As though you didn't torture me twice, and then destroy my planet! No, Lord Vader, I _w_ _on't_  cooperate, because you have made my life a living hell for as long as I've been alive!"

Vader stood silently and listened as Luke berated him. When he was done, there were tears in his eyes, and he drew his flesh hand over his forehead and gulped a deep breath.

"If I had known—" Vader began after a long pause.

"If you had known," Luke spat, "I would be just as miserable. Because you refuse to look me in the face and recognize that my best chance for a good life was with the people who adopted me. Because you're selfish, and you're arrogant, and you— you've decided that you're entitled to people when people are not a commodity you can collect! You— you ruined it! You ruined your whole life, and you blame everyone else for it. You—!"

" _Enough_."

Luke clamped his mouth shut. His eyes burned with angry tears, and he bowed his head low.

Vader's breaths rattled harshly in the silence. Luke shook his head slowly.

"I…" Vader trailed off for a few moments, turning his face away from Luke. "I have made… many mistakes. But I could never regret you. Do you understand that?"

Luke stared at him bemusedly.

"But you hate me," Luke said quietly.

"I… did," Vader admitted, "yes."

"You can't just stop hating person because they're related to you," Luke said. "I never stopped hating you."

"You do not hate me, Luke," Vader said bitterly. "Not _truly_. And that is why you are weak."

"I'd rather be weak than a monster," Luke retorted fiercely.

Vader looked at him. He took a step forward, and Luke's eyes flitted to his feet, and then to his mask. Vader stopped short of Luke's bed.

"I would like to understand you," said Vader.

"What?" Luke asked. He jerked back in alarm, his eyes darting away confusedly. "Are you… are you serious?"

"You are my son," Vader said. "I want to know you. I want you to trust that I care for you."

"But you don't," Luke said quietly.

Vader stared down at him. He moved very hesitantly, and Luke stared at him as he sat down slowly at the very edge of the very corner of Luke's cot.

"I will learn to," Vader said, staring straight ahead, his shoulders straight and stiff.

Luke exhaled shakily. He slumped as he looked away from Vader, feeling helpless and confused.

"I cannot learn if you are dead," Vader said. He looked at Luke, and Luke looked at him. "Do you understand?"

Luke gathered his cloak in his hands and hugged it to his chest. He nodded solemnly.

"Good." Vader rose to his feet and whirled away, his cape fluttering behind him. Luke gazed after him, and he looked down at his cloak.

"Wait!" he gasped. Vader paused at the door. Very slowly, Vader turned his head back to look at him. "Why… why did you keep this?" He held up the old velvet cloak that he had lost years ago on the floor of Vader's personal yacht.

Vader stared at him. The whole world seemed to halt in that moment, and the silence filled his lungs like water. Vader's stare did nothing if not pierce the soul and burn the heart.

"I do not know," he said.


End file.
